The Amazing Life of Andrew Fury
by ILoveLukeC
Summary: "I wasn't meant for this hero gig. It was literally forced upon me." Andy is a regular kid, despite the fact that he's friends with superheroes, his adoptive dad's Nick Fury, and he has some crazy awesome powers. When him and the gang run off to fight a new villian, they realize something. Andy's a target. And the bad guy is related to him. Rated T for language.
1. Welcome To My Life

I wasn't meant for this hero gig. It was _literally _forced upon me.

It had been a completely normal day, the day my life changed instantly.

The day I hadn't even _remembered _until my "father" brought it up.

The day I'd gotten my powers.

My "father" Nick Fury wasn't my real dad. He adopted me when I turned fourteen, after finding me doing some pretty bad stuff. I'd been one of those kids who vandalized property and was sent to the principal's office on a regular basis. Nick had straightened me out, which helped me become more mature. I don't do those things anymore and my friends keep me out of trouble… most of the time.

Nick had put me through training at his work, keeping me in shape and ready for the unexpected. I got to meet a few of his clients, who were literally legends, and even got a few souvenirs from them, considering how I was the boss's son.

You're wondering what his job is, aren't you?

Well… Here goes. Nick Fury, my father, is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D, an agency for superheroes and/or superhumans who protect the citizens of this universe.

Pretty cool, huh? It gets better.

Since I live with my dad and pretty much _share _the Head Quarters with him and the other superheroes, I have an entire freaking lab to myself. I've been testing my powers and have been creating a bunch of cool gadgets for the other guys to use.

But… Sometimes they malfunction. They've been doing that a lot lately, which has gotten me grounded plenty of times.

But, I'm a normal kid, who has to go to school, do his chores, and—

"Andy! Get off your lazy ass!"

Well… Guess I'm late. _Again. _

I leapt off my bed, running to my bathroom after grabbing a spare set of clothes. I quickly changed out my pajama shirt with a blue crewneck. I slid some jeans over my boxers and looked up at the mirror.

My face looked flustered as my blue eyes took in my shape. My skin was slightly tanned but not all that much. I ran a hand through my brown hair, using gel to spike it. I brushed my teeth until they were sparkly white and spit into the sink, wiping my lips on my forearm.

I rushed down the stairs as fast as I could. Nick was sitting at the table in our high-tech kitchen, listening to his police beeper while sipping a mug of black coffee. As I stepped on the landing, I heard the microwave beep, and Computer's female voice say, "Good morning, Andrew. I made your favorite. Waffles."

I walked into the kitchen, popping open the microwave. "Thanks, Computer." I sat down across Nick, gulping down my breakfast as I stood up, picking up my backpack and walking toward the door.

"Andy." I stopped, turning on my heel to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be late anymore," Nick said, sipping his coffee.

"Yes, sir," I said, smiling as I mimicked a salute and rushed out the door to open my backpack and pull out my jetpack. I strapped it onto my back, pressing on button on the backpack to watch it shrink to pocketsize. I blasted up into the air and flew to school—not many people can say that.

I don't know how to control jetpacks just yet, so I landed in a bush. I stood up after my backpack became regular size and I stuffed my jetpack in there. I walked into school, closing my eyes and imagining I could disappear.

When I reopened them and moved my hand toward my face, I stared at the hallway flooring. I couldn't help but grin and I march through the halls, stopping at the door of my third-hour classroom.

I snapped my fingers, appearing for a few seconds to stare through the window on the door and wave to my friends. Danny, Peter, Luke and Ava glanced over, giving me a disapproving look since I'd been late three times this week.

Sam looked up and grinned widely.

I pulled an old pass from my pocket and unwrinkled it, changing the date with my pencil. I opened the door, gaining an irritated look from the teacher at the front of the room.

"Mr. Fury. Late as always," He mumbled, taking my pass and tossing it in the trash. He turned his back, scribbling on the chalkboard.

I sighed, walking over to my friends and plopping down in the seat between Luke and Sam. Sam pounded my shoulder playfully with his fists. "I thought you were gonna play hooky today, man!"

"Nah, I decided against it. Nick would kick my ass into next week," I told him, lowering my voice.

Luke flicked me in the back of the head. "Andy, one more time and you're back at the principal's. You need to get your act together."

"I know, I know," I said. "If I get in trouble again, he's gonna lock down the lab, which means I couldn't make you guys anything."

"And, that's a bad thing?" Peter asked.

I looked up and shot Pete a glare. "It's not my fault they're malfunctioning! Something's wrong with the equipment! It worked before Nick got replacements for the stuff I accidentally burned."

Ava laughed. "_Accidentally_?"

I sighed. "Fine. _I _tried to see how much heat it could withstand."

Sam grinned. "It couldn't withstand much."

"Am I interrupting your conversation?" The teacher asked, turning around and glaring at us.

I had to bite my tongue from saying, "Yes, yes, you are."

The teacher narrowed his eyes at me. "Mr. Fury. What are we learning about?"

I looked up at the chalkboard. My eyes scanned the teacher's scrawled handwriting. I grinned because I actually knew this.

"You're _supposed _to be teaching us about what matter is made up of, but I know for a fact, you just zoned off and started to tell us about your personal life," I said, shrugging.

The teacher's face grew flushed with frustration. "Well, you seem to know what you're talking about. Why don't you be the teacher today?"

I smiled as I stood up. "Gladly."

I walked over to the chalkboard, snatching the piece of chalk from the teacher's hand. "Terence, sit down please and stop disrupting class," I told him, smiling.

I turned around, waving my arms to the class. "Now, let's get back to this _boring _stuff about atoms and matter and whatnot," I said, turning to the chalkboard until I threw the piece of chalk over my shoulder. "Who am I kidding? Let's party!"

I jumped on top of the teacher's desk, mimicking an air guitar. I grinned as Sam jumped up onto the desk beside me. We started air guitaring like complete idiots. I hopped off the desk and started flirting with a few of the girls in the class. Peter was chatting with Harry, Luke and Danny about something. Ava rolled her eyes at me and put her headphones in.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Principal Coulsan walked in.

"Shit," I muttered.

He pointed to me. "Fury, come with me. Everyone else, get back to work. Fun's over."

Everybody groaned and the teacher gave me a smug look.

I slumped my shoulders and followed the principal out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind us. "Principal Coulsan, I—" I was about to make up a perfect alibi about why I'd been jumping on desks and why I was flirting with class mates, but he held up a hand.

"I don't want to hear it, Fury," Coulsan said, irritated as he walked me to his office. He sat down heavily into a chair. "Look, you've been causing trouble, _again._"

"I know I have, but it's because that teacher hates me!" I protested.

"Mr. Jacobs has nothing against you. If he did, I'd know."

I slammed my fist on the desk. "Phil, just listen to me! I don't know what that guy's problem is, but he _hates _my guts!"

Coulsan raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. He's out to get you?"

I nodded. "Yeah!"

Coulsan rolled his eyes. "Andy, I'm a _principal. _That excuse is the oldest in the book. Maybe it's because you have a reputation for being bad."

I sighed. "Look, I've been trying."

Coulsan nodded. "I know you have. Just try harder not to get in trouble."

I looked at Coulsan. "Fine."

Coulsan perked a brown eyebrow. "In and _out _of class?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Asks the undercover agent."

Coulsan stared at me seriously. "Fine," I said, "I'll try not to get wiped off the face of the earth in a dramatic fight to the death with a crazy mastermind who hates my father."

Coulsan smiled. "Good."

I turned around, shutting the door behind me.

That's when my watch buzzed.

I clicked the side button and Nick's face appeared. "Andy, I need you to get the others and rush over to downtown, stat."

I nodded. "Okay. What's down there?"

Nick's face looked grim. "Something unidentified. Something powerful."

I nodded. "Got it. I'll go get 'em."

"Andy," Nick said before I could cut the connection, "you're my son. Remember that. No matter what."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Um, okay."

Nick nodded. "Be careful."

"You got it," I said, as he cut the connection.

I turned down the hall and raced to my fourth period class.

We needed to hurry.

Whatever was out there, was freaky dangerous. Whatever it was, it was major. It scared _Nick_. That _should've_ made me run for cover.

But, it didn't.

Because, unlike most superheroes, I'm stupid.

And, unfortunately for mankind, I follow my gut,

My gut's telling me to go for it.

If I end up killing all you, let me just say this now—_sorry. _

Leave a review, please. This is my first Spiderman/Marvel fic. If I get anything wrong, go ahead and tell me. Helpful criticism is welcome, but hurtful or mean comments aren't.

**This is supposed to revolve around that Disney XD cartoon. It doesn't revolve around just _Peter_, but him and the rest of the guys (and girls, including Ava and any girl characters I'll add) are major parts to the story.**

**Tell me if I should keep going and see where this story gets me.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Crushing Hard

**I've decided the cussing in this is going to be … pretty bad. I mean, Andy's supposed to be 16. He has a nasty vocabulary. Just thought I'd warn you. Anyways…**

I ran down the halls, trying to figure out what period it was.

_Fourth? Sixth? Eighth?_

I dug into my jean pocket, pulling out my schedule. I bit the inside of my cheek, walking forward to try and get to the cafeteria, because according to my calculations, it was lunch. (The growling in my stomach was a big factor, too.)

I kept walking, picking up the pace as I heard Flash shout, "Oh! Look what the nerds dragged in!" I ducked under his fist, glancing up, irritated. "Nice to see you too, Flash," I remarked, walking around him and his bully crew.

That's when something happened.

I ran into someone.

A girl.

A _pretty _girl.

I slammed into her and we both tumbled to the floor.

"Jesus," I muttered, rolling off of her.

Now, everyone, this girl was _gorgeous. _Like, _drop-freaking-dead gorgeous. _

She had long wavy lush blonde hair, gorgeous blue-green eyes, and her nose crinkled when she looked pissed. It was freaking _adorable._

She glared at me. "Seriously?"

I must've smiled really stupidly. I mean, all I could think about, was _Oh my god. She talked to me. Holy fuck. She. Talked. To. Me. _**(Yay. Usage of cussage.)**

She rolled her eyes, picking up a stack of papers she dropped.

I snapped out of whatever I was in and started helping her pick stuff up. "I'm _really _sorry," I apologized, grabbing her geometry textbook and stacking it onto her math book.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I wasn't looking where I was going, either."

I grabbed a stack of papers, trying my best to rifle through them. I tapped them on the flooring of the hallway, handing them to her.

She reached out to grab it.

That's when I noticed another thing.

The charm bracelet on her wrist, covered in red beads.

The watch beside it, decorated with diamonds.

The watch looked like mine. But, the emblems were different.

Mine was a rustic shield, like the one Captain America hauls around.

Hers were two crossed scythes. That wasn't what bothered me.

What bothered me was what was _on _the scythes.

The tattered remains of every superhero costume you could think of.

Superman's red cape, a shiny remain of Iron Man's suit, a scrap of the Hulk's pants, a broken quiver of Hawkeye's, Batman's mask, Captain America's red, white and blue sleeve.

On the opposite side of the watch, was… _us._

Nick's eye patch, Spiderman's mask, Iron Fist's bandana, the visor of Powerman, the claws of White Tiger, the jetpack of Nova. And, behind everything, stood the dotted white outline of a young guy.

_Me. _

I dropped the papers in shock.

She raised an eyebrow. "Um, are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," I said, unconvincingly.

"Really?" She knitted her eyebrows in concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I scratched the back of my neck nervously, standing up.

I held out a hand and helped her up, too.

"My name's Crystal," She said, smiling, as she shook my hand.

"My name's Andy," I said.

She smiled. "I'll see you around, Andy."

"Yeah. I'll be around," I added, realizing how stupid that sounded after I said it.

She walked away, sneaking a glance back.

I watched her go.

Then, I remembered.

We were supposed to fight something.

Peter and Danny were walking down the hall. I ran up to them.

"Guys, we need to go downtown," I advised them.

They nodded. "I'll call the others," Danny said, clicking his watch.

I nodded. Peter and I ran off down the hall.

We ran out the back doors of the school. Peter unzipped his jacket to reveal his Spiderman costume underneath.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you wear those everywhere?"

Peter looked at me. "Don't judge me. They're comfy, okay?"

I shook my head, unzipping my backpack and pulling out my jetpack.

I didn't have any special suit. I was working on one at the HQ, but I couldn't figure out what it should look like. I mean, how do you capture _invisibility? _

Peter looked at me. "You know, I still haven't gotten that jetpack."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't need one, Pete. You have a motorcycle _and _webs."

"So?" Peter whined. "Sam has one. He doesn't even _need _it."

I groaned. "Can we just get back to work?"

Peter nodded. "I'll meet you there."

I fastened the jetpack on and gave Pete a salute, flying into the sky and keeping my eyes locked on downtown.

…

I fell through the sky, the light breeze wrinkling my shirt and tugging at the hoodie of my jacket. I glanced down at the ground, almost going headlong into an office window. I quickly swerved, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"That could've been bad," I muttered to myself, watching the building slowly grow farther and farther away…

_Smack!_

I cried out as something hit my jetpack, causing it to unbuckle by itself and release me. I yelped, grabbing hold of the metal straps that were supposed to be over my shoulders. The jetpack started to teeter to the side.

"No, no, _no_," I started to panic. _Why hadn't I read the damn manual?_

I glanced around and caught sight of what hit me. My eyebrows raised in surprise. I thought Spiderman had handled him!

He threw another thing at me. I realized in panic that it was a _car_, heading straight for my retarded ass jetpack and me. I looked up at the jetpack in dismay, knowing if the car didn't take me out, I'd surely slip and fall to my death, squashed like a fly with Andy-guts all over the road.

My fingers let go at the last second.

I felt bad for the people who would have to scrape me off the concrete.

I tumbled down, screaming at the top of my lungs.

Until, my best friend, who I now owe my life to, grapped me out of the sky and held me in his arms, bridal-style.

Sam grinned at me, the Nova helmet secured to his head. He flew me to the ground and let me shakily stand up.

Peter glared at me through the Spiderman mask. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, Andy."

I shrugged sheepishly. "It's not my fault Mr. Crazy decided to throw a damn car at me!"

We all glanced at Doctor Octopus nervously.

But, it wasn't just him.

Venom stood behind him, morphing into black sludge. Goblin held a pumpkin bomb in his hand trimumptly, daring us to challenge him.

But, the worst thing?

The _new _villain. The girl with the black spandex suit that showed off every one of her curves perfectly; the girl with the long blonde hair; the girl I recognized.

The girl I _seriously _wanted to take out to dinner.

You know, if she didn't kill me first.

**Andy's got a crush, guys. Too bad this could be… _deadly. _**

**Okay, sorry, couldn't resist!**

**I don't know the villains very well, since the time I had this obsession was when I was younger and the Spiderman thing was cute. [Just kidding, guys, the Spiderman obsession _is _always cute!] So… if you wanted to… maybe give me a backdrop on Spidey's villain (not-so) friends?**

**Thanks.**

**Also, I'd also like to thank Lillianna Rider, a person named Guest, and Annnnnnnna [8 n's, btw] for reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**I'll answer the reviews, while I'm at it.**

**Guest— That would actually be really cool! I used to watch that show all the time with my sister, but I've been slacking on season three. **

**Annnnnnnna (Guest)— Thanks! Yes, here is thy update!**

**Okay, done rambling. Leave a review please! Follows and favorites are greatly appreciated, also. It makes me know you like me as a writer.**


	3. I Torch Downtown Manhattan

So, I just watched the newest Ultimate Spiderman, the one about the eye or whatever. I can't believe Nick got kidnapped. I mean, he's Nick Fury! And, he has a brother named Max? Hey, guys, I think I found my major bad guy… -evil chuckle-

Even though Crystal was in a costume, I recognized her right away.

By the way her eyes widened, she recognized me, too.

I elbowed Sam in the ribs since he was busy gawking. "Holy shit," he whispered to me, "do you see her, too?"

I rolled my eyes and made a _pfft _sound in my throat.

I crossed my arms, glancing at Spidey and P-Man to see if they were going to do anything. I raised an eyebrow when I realized they were gawking, too.

Ava rolled her eyes, turning to them. "Seriously?" She asked. "You see _one _pretty girl and you all freaking melt?"

She glanced at me and saw I looked annoyed.

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Andy, I'm worried. Are you gay or something? You usually turn into a dog like Sam over there."

I shook my head and was about to tell Ava about meeting her in the hallway, when I heard Goblin screech, "We need him! The guy in the blue!"

I looked around at the other guys, checking their shirt color.

Sam turned to me. "Andy… You're wearing blue today."

"Ah, fuck," I mumbled, glancing at my shirt. "This is _fantastic._"

Venom's tongue slid out of his mouth, his ballistic white eyes resembling a lunatic dog with rabies. A growl escaped his throat as he hissed, "_He's the prey. We're the predators. And, I'm hungry._"

I gulped as I took a step back. I did _not _want to be eaten today.

Doc Octopus used his mechanical legs to steer him closer. His brown trench coat was tightened around him, but one of the claws on an arm threw it open, revealing cans of knockout gas and ugly looking scalpels.

The rest of the guys stood in front of me, almost like a wall of protection.

I hated whenever they stood up for me like this. Where they pretended that I was still that little orphaned twelve year-old who couldn't take care of himself. I _could _take care of myself. As a matter of fact, I would.

Crystal took a step forward, her white boots crushing tiny rocks underneath her feet. I watched her snap her fingers, causing them all to advance.

The Goblin shrieked in joy as he threw dozens of razor bats at the protective wall of people in front of me. They exploded, and even though they didn't show it, I knew just that little fire had done multitudes of damage.

Doc Oct picked up a truck with his arms, as Venom melted into sludge and slurred, "_I'm coming, Spidey-Man._"

Peter yelped and jumped back as Venom tried to grab onto his legs. Nova flew up and turned on his feet, causing blue flames to ignite on Venom, which caused him to recoil and screech in pain.

Doctor Octopus threw his truck. Power-Man looked up and shouted, "Nova!" Nova scooped up P-Man, throwing him into the air so that his hands clenched into the metal of the car's underside, which he tossed back at Octopus in anger.

I took a step back, hearing a female voice ask, "Going somewhere?"

I turned to her and became face-to-mask with Crystal.

"Oh, uh, hey, Crystal," I said, backing up and nervously scratching the back of my neck.

"You know, Andy, you could've told me you were a Fury," She said, smiling.

I shook my head. "You seemed to figure it out on your own."

She came forward, placing what felt like a white claw against my chest as she said, "I did. You don't hide it very much. I saw you leave on the jetpack outside with Spider-Man." She flicked her blonde hair. "Also, call me Black Cat while I'm in uniform."

"Black Cat?" I asked.

She nodded. "Kinda like your White Tiger friend."

I glanced back at Ava and the rest of the guys, who were all too preoccupied trying to keep the villains at bay.

I turned back to face her but she'd flicked something out from her boot.

_A fucking grappling hook._

I stared at it. "How did you fit that in your shoe?"

"Oh. This? It's kinda like your jetpack shrinking," she said, taking a step closer. I backed up some more.

"Uh, can I ask why you and the crazies are after me?" I asked, eyeing her hook.

"The boss wants you and I can't risk getting fired," She said, sighing. "Sorry, Andy. You seem like a nice kid and everything, and if this all blows over, I'd love to get to know you better, but…" She glanced at her hook. "I was assigned to get you, and unless you want Venom devouring you, you might as well not struggle."

I looked at her, surprised. "Wait, what do you mean?" I asked, backing up some more.

She twirled her hook until it swung over her head.

In a split second, I turned invisible. It wasn't something I thought about—the invisibility happened when I panicked or when I felt I was in danger or I seriously just needed to go unseen for a while.

She narrowed her eyes, her hook picking up speed.

I glanced behind me at the other villains. If I rushed past them, the others could scatter. Venom would probably smell me, so they'd be off his radar for a while, which was better than nothing.

I took off in a run, knowing that if I contemplated it too much, I'd hesitate and lose my chance. I ran forward, leaping up, landing my foot in the crook of the Goblin's back, pushing down and doing a summer-salt in the air, landing on my feet.

Venom sniffed the air, his tongue peeking from his lips as he shrieked in delight. I looked down and realized I was visible again.

My friends seemed shocked that I'd basically refused their protection.

I waited a few moments until I'd caught the attention of Doc Oct and Goblin. Crystal leaned back against a brick wall, looking slightly impressed and highly amused.

I picked up a rock off the ground.

I was probably going to regret this, but…

I threw the rock, watching it fly straight into the exhaust pipe of Goblin's flying craft. It made a low hum as it flew in, pinging as it got stuck in the tube. Goblin tried to turn it around to attack me, but suddenly, a deep crack emitted from the pipe.

I stood there and grinned. Goblin looked down at the craft, muttering "Uh oh," as it made a popping sound.

Seconds later, the aircraft exploded.

I honestly didn't think it would've been that big of an explosion… But, I'm always wrong on how dangerous explosives are.

Embers and burnt scraps of metal rained down on the sky. I sat up, coughing on gas fumes and smoke. I was lying under a car, which probably wasn't the best idea, since the sky was raining fire and my head rested near the gas tank.

I slipped out from under the car, looking across the lot and realizing my friends were over there, groaning and moaning in pain.

I ran over to them, shouting, "Guys! I'm sorry! I must've miscalculated or something…"

"Or, the knockout gas and car fumes could've triggered a major explosion," Peter spat in my direction, sitting up and glaring at me. His mask was off and he had a gash on his forehead.

Luke sat up next, muttering under his breath, "Next time, Andy, let us protect you. It's our job."

I looked at him. "No. It's your job to protect the _citizens_. Not me."

Danny glanced at me, placing his hand on his forehead. "Andy, you are a citizen. You live here, don't you?"

I sighed. "Well, I live here, but—"

My watch crackled, as Ava and Sam were shaken awake.

Nick's scowl was pretty hard to miss.

"Andrew. What the hell happened downtown?"

"Uh, well, we found some villains," I said.

"What else?" Nick asked, irritated.

"I… kinda…" I started.

"BLEW EVERYTHING UP!" Nick screamed, pissed beyond belief.

I laughed. You could see the vein pop out of his neck.

He glared, which is hard to do with one eye. "The hell is so funny?"

"It's just that…"

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! HOME. NOW," Nick snapped.

I sighed as he ended our connection.

Two things I knew for sure—I was grounded for torching downtown, and … I was a target for some new boss.

This just got better and better, huh?

**Not the best chapter… but alas, it _is _only the third one. **

Answers for reviews…

**Lillianna Rider— Haha, thanks, I try!**

**Navaka114— Yes. Pretty much. XD**

**Xxxx2— Haha, thanks. Updating may be tough, but I'll pull through. I have a Percy Jackson story with 19 chapters now, that's pretty popular and that I have great ideas for. I'm also in high-demand from my friends and school's in two weeks. But, I'll find time to update between school and homework and all of that. I'm glad you like it!**

Thanks for reading!

**Have any of you seen the commercial for the next Ultimate Spiderman with Sandman? Let's just say, even _if _Peter is animated… He has an amazing chest. Like, seriously. Even if they didn't define it… Holy. **

**Keep in mind, I'm a chick, so don't think I'm going full-on homo on you guys. It's just… Peter is hot, for an animated character. If you say different… The Itsy Bitsy Spider's gonna web you in the face.**

**Alright, good-bye fellow people of the world and all who inhabit it. Leave a review, please! They mean a lot!**

**ILoveLukeC is signing off. (Don't miss me too much.)**


	4. We'll Avenge It

**So, guys, I've noticed something… Gravity Falls is actually funny.**

The moment I stepped on the Helicarrier, I knew I was in deep shit.

Nick was fuming, pacing back and forth on the top of a flight of stairs, barking orders at new recruits and unpaid interns. He was grumbling under his breath, and when his one eye landed on me, his scowl deepened.

He stopped pacing, pulling an arm forward, as he gestured with his pointer finger for me to go to him. My shoulders slumped and I glanced at the team.

Luke clapped me on the back. "Good luck."

"You're gonna need it," Sam murmured.

I sighed and walked up the flight of metal stairs, my head down, taking an interest in my red converse. As my feet clanked on each metal step, it reminded me of someone running his or her nails down a chalkboard.

My converse squeaked as I halted on the landing of the stairs.

"Closer," Nick commanded.

My shoes went one centimeter closer and I stopped again.

"Stop playing games, Andy. I'm not in the mood," Nick snapped.

I sighed, taking a few steps closer, glancing up.

Nick's one brown eye glared at me.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Nick asked.

"I—" I began, but Nick cut me off.

"Of course you don't. Because you don't _think, _Andy. You go straight into acting before you even _consider _if it's a bad idea," Nick snapped.

"But—" I started again, but Nick cut me off again.

"No buts, Andrew. You torched downtown! Do you know how much _money _it'll take to make everyone 'forget' about this incident?" Nick shouted, loosing his cool.

All the interns, the heroes, and the employees—they stared up at the landing, watching Nick scream at me. Nick _never _lost his cool. He was known for his cool demeanor and he wouldn't let people forget about it.

This time, I crossed the line.

I took a step back, backing my head away from his screaming face.

"You don't think about anything, do you?" He asked angrily. "You don't think about what could go _wrong! _You don't think about the possibilities of you or someone else getting hurt! You don't think about anything, Max!"

Shock sunk in as Nick realized what he'd just said.

I stared at him as his hand subconsciously grazed the eye patch over his left eye. I sucked in a breath. He never talked about that.

I took another step back. He _never _talked about how he'd gotten that eye patch. He had never told anyone. And now, everyone knew. Everyone had heard. Everyone had seen that slight movement to his eye patch.

I reminded Nick of the brother he never talked about?

The brother he _hated_?

I stared at Nick, something wet glazing over my eyes, as I shook my head.

Why would he say that? Why would he _think _it?

I was supposed to be his _son_, even if I was adopted.

I was _not _going to be compared to Max Fury, one of the most dangerous villains in the world.

I was nothing like him.

My hands formed fists as I took another step, turning around, betrayal twisting my facial expression.

Nick was never going to live that down.

I would never forgive him for that one comment, accidental or not.

Nick whispered, "Andy. I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

I heard him take a step forward, and I looked over my shoulder, staring at him. "Don't," I said, shaking my head. "Just… Don't." And, with that, I walked down the stairs, passing my friends, who watched me walk out in shock.

I knew Peter had met Max once. It hadn't been pretty. He'd tried killing Pete and Nick with some psychotic glowing key and had even tried blowing up the Helicarrier. He was insane and… Nick thought I was just like him.

I pushed open a door, hearing it slam behind me, as I walked down the hallway. Tears were suddenly streaming down my cheeks but I hastily wiped them away.

I took a right turn, walking down the hallway to see four doors. I wanted to go to the lab. I wanted to lock myself in there and drown myself in work. I wanted to forget that this day even happened.

My eyesight was blurry as more tears flooded.

I walked to the first door I saw, opening it and taking a step inside. My back was turned, as I began to shut it, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands as I heard someone say, "Excuse me? We're in the middle of a meeting."

I turned around to face five living legends.

Tony Stark looked annoyed as he stood beside a SMART board, which had extremely scientific diagrams and scrawled handwriting glowing in blue against a black screen. His intent brown gaze kept me still as his black eyebrows furrowed. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, as his black dress shoe slapped against the tile floor. An upside-down obtuse triangle glowed blue against his black crewneck.

I looked around the white observation table, where the rest of the Avengers sat. Steve Rogers sat in his plastic chair, his interest perked, as his blue eyes took me in. His jelled blonde hair was to the side, revealing his handsome face. He was wearing a shirt like the ones at comic book stores, with his rustic shield painted on it.

Dr. Bruce Banner stared at me with his dark brown eyes. His chestnut skin was a brilliant comparison to his white lab coat. He raised a black eyebrow at me.

Natasha Romanoff sat beside Clint Barton. Natasha's red curls streamed down her back. She wasn't in her latex suit (can you feel the disappointment?) but she was in a black leather jacket that was over a red V-neck. She smiled kindly enough, but I knew that smile was just a cover-up. Clint looked slightly amused, his arms crossed, as he tilted his chair back. He wore a black muscle shirt that made me feel like a skinny-ass twig.

So, since it wasn't my day, why wasn't Thor there to rub in the fact that I can't do anything right, huh? Why wasn't he there, so that he could go tell his planet that I was a failure?

That's when it hit me.

I was embarrassing myself in front of the_ Avengers._

I looked around the room, trying to remember what Tony had said.

He glared at me, as he restated his question, "Who are you, kid?"

I stiffened. _Kid? _I _wasn't _a kid. I was sixteen. I could drive if Nick ever gave me money to afford a damn car. I could ride a jetpack (give or take a few crashes). I was old enough to take care of myself. Honestly, even if Stark was a major legend, he didn't have the right to downgrade me before he even got to know me. **(a/n He's a drama queen, ain't he?)**

I said, "I'm Andrew Fury."

They all shared a raised eyebrow.

"Nick Fury's son?" Dr. Banner asked curiously.

I nodded then looked around. "Sorry. I took a wrong turn… I was looking for the lab. I'll leave you guys to your meeting."

I was about to turn, when Steve held up a hand, scraping his chair back. He stood and walked toward me.

Steve was pretty imitating. He was inches taller than me and his chest was insanely buff. His arm muscles were three sizes bigger than mine and don't even get me started on his calves. If Ava were here, she would've passed out in a puddle of her own drool.

He smiled which shook off his imitating figure. "Hello, Andy. I've heard a lot about you from your father."

I nodded. "I've heard a lot about you, too. My principal's really into his comic books." **(a/n Marvel Avengers reference from the movie!)**

Steve grinned as he held out a hand for me to shake.I decided to take this into my own hands. Steve wasn't used to the 21st century. I held out a hand, but instead of shaking his, I clenched my hand into a fist. He took a step back, probably thinking I was going to punch him.

_Yeah, right, _I thought. _He'd beat the living shit out of me before that happened._

I shook my head. "It's a fist bump. Put your hand into a fist, and bump mine. It's 21st Century, Rogers. I'll teach you the basics."

Steve stared at his hand, as he clenched it into a fist. He stared at it quizzically, glanced at mine, and thumped his fist against my own fist.

I grinned. "Nice! You're a natural!"

He stared at his hand. "Yeah… I guess."

Tony emitted a chuckle. I glanced over to see him petting his goatee.

He pointed at me. "You're Nick's son? You look nothing like him."

I glanced at my pink skin and felt a strand of my hair.

"Yeah, well, I'm adopted," I said, shrugging.

Tony mocked surprise. "Really? I couldn't tell."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I bet you couldn't."

The cell phone in my pocket buzzed. I pulled it out, checking my messages.

My heart kind of did a retarded little dance in my chest.

It was _Crystal. _Sure, she had tried killing me and whatnot, but she _had _apologized and said she'd wanted to get to know me…

Excuse me, while I try not to giggle aloud like an idiot.

Tony recognized the look on my face. "Oh. Who texted you? Let me guess… A _girl_?" Tony teasinglyasked.

I looked at him. "Um, uh, _what_? _No!_" I nervously stated, my voice cracking.

He looked at me, his smile telling me I'd just removed all doubt.

"So, what's her name?" He asked, grinning knowingly.

I glared at him but my resolve crumbled and I sighed. "Her name's Crystal."

"Aw. That's cute," Stark retorted.

I rolled my eyes. _Cute _was not in my vocabulary.

"Yeah, whatever," I sighed heavily.

Tony walked toward me from his spot from the front of the room. "You know, Andy, I was—wait, I _still _am—popular with the ladies. I mean, I'm a multibillionaire, an inventor, freaking Iron Man—I'm eye candy!"

I looked at him, wrinkling my features. "Add full of himself to the list."

The rest of the Avengers chuckled as Tony ignored my statement.

"Look, what I'm saying is, maybe, I could help you get the girl," He said.

I sighed. "If she doesn't get another assignment to kill me, sure, knock yourself out," I murmured under my breath.

They all looked at me weird.

"Uh, I mean, sure!" I said, my words dripping with false enthusiasm.

Stark gave me a blinding grin. "Alright. Let's get started, then."

**Now the Avengers are in on it. In the words of Andrew Fury, "This is _fantastic._"**

**I actually thought the Sandman episode was going to be a cliffhanger. It had passed its 30-minute mark, but they ended up fixing the Helicarrier and turning Sandman into glass. I felt kind of bad for Flint. I mean, he was just lonely and kinda deranged… **

**During the entire episode, I was like… _Oh my god. Shirtless hot superheroes. Look at Peter. Oh god, Sam. Holy crap, Luke. Oh gaawwd, Danny. How can Ava stand this? _I mean, she's _reading _about a hot shirtless guy that suspiciously looks like Danny… Why not look up and realize that there are four sexy guys in front of you?**

**You know, in the Marvel Avengers movie, (spoiler to anyone who hasn't seen it), how Agent Coulsan dies? Well, imagine that didn't happen, because I like him and I want him in this damn story. So, as of the first chapter, Under-Cover Agent Phil Coulsan is alive and well and still obsessed with Captain America. He never died.**

**Glad we got that settled. **

**Lillianna Rider—Let me just say, thank you so much for reviewing. You've reviewed almost every chapter, which is amazing. **

**Also, thank you to everyone who followed and/or favorited. I'm glad you like it so far, and I have big plans for this story. Hopefully it skyrockets and Andy doesn't make too much of a fool of himself.**

**Review, please!**


	5. Flames Should Burn

Guys. GUYS. There was a dude who worked at the zoo and he looked like Tony freaking Stark, except his hair was brown, but he had the goatee and everything. CRAZY.

"Alright," Tony started, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Dating 101."

I was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, around the white table. Tony was standing behind me, practically breathing down my neck. Natasha and Clint stood to the side of the SMART board, trying hard not to show their amusement. Dr. Banner didn't seem pleased in the fact that we'd drifted from the meeting, but he didn't say anything. Steve was leaning against the wall, not really paying attention.

"Now, the first step to dating, is, well, _obviously_, getting the girl to like you back," Tony said. "And, if she calls you her _friend_… Sorry, but you might as well turn into a forever alone meme."

I rolled my eyes. "Tony. You aren't helping."

"I'm just saying," Tony replied. "Anyways, how did you meet her?"

I thought back. "I ran into her in the hallway."

"Figuratively or literally?" Tony asked.

My shoulders slumped. "Uh… Literally."

"Oh," Tony said, sighing heavily. "You've already embarrassed yourself."

I nodded glumly, resting my chin on my arms.

Tony sighed. "Don't worry, kid. It's not that big of a deal."

I shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

Tony slapped me on the back, which caused my head to shoot up.

"Ow!" I shouted, leaping from the chair. "What was _that _for?"

"Don't let your guard down," Tony ordered, but he broke into a smile. "I honestly just wanted to hit you."

I glared at him, rubbing my back.

"Okay," Tony said, clapping his hands, "Second step. Asking her out. You have to be straightforward. Walk up to her, like this," Tony said, as he demonstrated a really stupid 'swag' walk. "When you walk up to her, you have to act as if you have insane confidence," Tony said, swaggering over to Natasha.

"And, then, you look her straight in the eyes, and ask, 'Will you go out with me?'" Tony said, staring right at Natasha.

Clint narrowed his eyes, clearly not happy about this. Natasha took a step back, her green eyes confused. Tony smiled slightly, glancing at Natasha. "'Tasha, this isn't supposed to be an open-ended question," he said through gritted teeth.

She raised an eyebrow, rolled her eyes, and shoved him back, so that he was now sprawled on the observation table, groaning in pain.

I shouted across the room, "YOU JUST GOT BURNED!"

Tony groaned on the table, "I'll take that as a 'no'?"

Clint laughed, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder, which caused her to break into a smile.

I walked over to Tony and looked at him. His eyes shot open and he jumped off the table, wincing. He gave me a clearly fake smile. "If this Crystal is anything like Natasha, you're in trouble," Tony said, chuckling and trying to hide the pain.

My eyes widened but I quickly covered it up by laughing with him.

Thanks to the wonderful Tony Stark, I was now afraid to get my ass kicked.

"I should probably head to the lab," I told them, pointing at the door and slowly backing out.

Dr. Banner raised a hand. "Wait," he said. "I needed to check the laboratory. Could I come with you, by any chance?"

"Uh, sure," I said, shrugging.

Bruce stood and walked over, turning around, as he told Tony, "We'll proceed with the meeting after I check out the lab."

Tony nodded, waving us out with his hand.

…

I pulled the glass door shut behind me, giving Bruce a thumbs-up.

He glanced at me nervously.

"Andrew, I don't think this is a good idea," he told me.

I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, Bruce, I've done this a million times," I exaggerated. "Just flip the switch. C'mon! If it hurts, I'll tell you."

Bruce turned around, grabbing a fire extinguisher. He glanced at me, closed his eyes, and flicked the switch.

Fire exploded in the glass tube I was standing in. It licked up my body, snaked up my arms and legs, slithered in between my fingers.

It should've burned. I should've been dead.

But, I wasn't.

For some reason, fire didn't affect me. But, the weird thing was, even though I was on the swim team, it didn't mess with the whole fire resistance thing. I'd had it since I was little.

_I could hear the screams, the shouts. I was standing inside in a different lab—a smaller one. The walls used to be white. Now, they were burning brown, glowing orange. Someone was banging on the white door, screaming my name, and shouting for me to get out._

_But, I couldn't. _

_There was something in front of the door, blocking it. _

_Something huge and ugly and scary._

_Its three-inch white claws scraped against the tile floor. Its smooth brown fur ruffled suddenly, like what a cat does when it gets frightened. Its closed eyelid shot open, revealing a large golden eye. Its pink tongue licked its pointed teeth. Fire lapped at the animal's long tail, and it flicked it in anger. _

_It slowly stood, turning its large head to stare at me._

_It licked its moist black lips, snarling._

_That's when the door opened. _

_That's when the person standing behind the door ran forward, attacking the animal from behind, as fire flooded into the room and he shouted, "Get out! Get out, Andrew! Get—"_

"—out. Andrew, we're done," Bruce said.

My eyes shot open. I looked around.

The flames were gone. I felt my cheeks, surprised at the wetness of tears.

Bruce had a clipboard out and he was writing something.

"What's that?" I asked, as I slid open the door and walked down a few steps.

"An observation sheet," Bruce explained. "The fire should've burnt you. You should be brutally burnt and shouldn't even be able to move, yet, you just walked down _stairs. _This is strange."

_Says the guy who transforms into a green sumo wrestler when he's angry, _I thought.

Bruce checked his watch. "Shoot. I better get to that meeting. I'll talk to you later, Andrew."

I watched him watch out. I let a hand graze my wet cheeks.

Whatever I'd seen, or thought, was major. It was something that had happened. There was some catlike animal, fire, and a person, who had somehow known me.

…

I was at home, lying on my back, texting Crystal. I stuck my tongue out as my texting speed increased. I started smiling like an idiot.

"Andrew. Sit on your bed correctly," Computer told me in her motherly nagging tone.

I sighed. "Okay, _Mom_," I told her sarcastically, rolling over onto my stomach.

I sent Crystal a text with a smiley face.

"Who are you texting?" Computer asked.

I jumped ten feet, loosing grip on my cell so that it flew across the room.

"Computer!" I shouted angrily, turning around to glare at her screen, which had been looking over my shoulder.

"_Sorry_." If computers could be sarcastic, she sure was.

I slid off the bed lazily and reached for my phone, grabbing it as it vibrated.

"So, who are you texting, or should I hack into your cell phone's system?" Computer asked.

I pulled my phone to my chest protectively. "It's no one."

"That's a dumb name for a girl," Computer said.

My eyes shot up. "I didn't say the gender."

Computer started whistling.

"Computer!" I shouted. "You can't go through my private messages!"

"I'm sorry for being curious!" She snapped back.

"Computers don't even have emotions!" I shouted again.

"I didn't come up here to argue," Computer told me, her animated voice growing softer, as if someone turned down the volume. "I think you should give your father another chance."

"He's not my father," I replied bitterly. "He's Nick."

"According to the state and the computer database, you are Nick Fury's son," Computer stated, "and you are going to live with it."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

"Now, go downstairs and make sure he knows you aren't still mad," Computer told me. More like _commanded. _

"How? Get down on one knee and beg? Kiss his shoes? If someone's going to apologize, it'll be Nick," I said.

Computer shocked me.

"Ow!" I cried out.

"Go talk to him. Now. I want to see hugging," Computer snarled.

I rolled my eyes, opening the door and walking down the stairs.

"Nick!" I shouted. "We need to hug or Computer's going to fry me!"

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Where was Nick?

I walked to the door of his office and knocked.

There was no answer, except the door swinging open.

I looked inside, craning my neck.

"Nick?" I called.

There was no answer.

I smiled, taking a step inside and ducking to the floor, so that my face was smashed against the carpet, as I heard an arrow plunge itself into the door.

I glanced at the arrow. It would've stabbed me in the knee, had I not known what was there. But, it'd already happened, and I learned from my mistakes.

I pushed myself off the floor, shutting the door, after plucking the arrow out of the mahogany. I tossed it on the floor as I cautiously sat down in Nick's sacred spinning chair that only he could sit in.

I waited for the chair to explode dramatically or for a torrent of bullets to attack me. But, all there you could hear was my breathing.

I smiled. Nick wasn't here to stop me.

Time to have some fun.

If I didn't get grounded for this, I'd forgive Nick for the Max comment earlier.

**Andy. Andy. Andy. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You are going to be in so much trouble. But, oh well. All for the readers' amusement, I see.**

**My school starts next Wednesday. Excuse me, while I slam my head into my keyboard. Vbnbr5fvvcfvfrnjjnbmbfrdejuf wnjufwiu—**

**Anyways, review answer time:**

**Lillianna Rider—Heh heh… sorry. **

**NoNameX—I PM'd you, so we're good. But, yeah, Andy's adorable. –runs to the side and grabs him and hugs him then runs away to continue typing-**

**I have a question for you guys, it's pretty random, but whatever.**

**Is it weird to talk to yourself in the mirror? I think I'm just building up charisma so I can be an actor some day, but my mom thinks I'm crazy.**

**CRAZY IS A STRONG HURTFUL WORD.**

**Ow. My head hurts from slamming it in the keyboard.**

**Sorry, this a/n got long and random and off-topic.**

**-gives a salute-**

**I'll update as soon as possible. I have to update my PJO story but I won't forget about you guys. **

**Leave a review.**

**DON'T MAKE ME ANGER BRUCE. HE ISN'T FRIENDLY WHEN HE'S BIG AND GREEN. HE DOESN'T LIKE PEOPLE WHO DON'T REVIEW.**

**BE SCARED. BE VERY SCARED.**


	6. The Past Is Uncovered

I was spinning in Nick's chair, chuckling like an idiot, as I downed my third can of Coke. I crushed the can in my hand and tossed it in the black trash bin underneath his desk.

I laughed as I popped open another can, listening to it fizz.

Suddenly, the phone rang, and I toppled out of the chair, but caught the can in time to make sure none of the pop spilled. I sighed in relief. Nick would've killed me if I'd stained his carpet.

I placed the can on the desk as I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hey, Nick, this is Phil," Phil Coulsan's echoed in my ears.

"Um, sorry, Phil, Nick's not here," I told him.

"Oh," Phil said. "This is important. I'll send it to his email."

I nodded. "I'll tell him you called."

"Okay, thanks," Phil started, about to hang up. "Wait."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Are you in Nick's office?" Phil asked suspiciously.

"Uh, no," I said, mentally face palming.

Remind me to work on my lying skills. They'd gotten a little rusty.

Phil sighed, exasperated.

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I took an opportunity! Nick is almost always in here! I just wanted to sit in his damn chair! Is that too much to ask?" I shouted into the phone.

"Just get out of there before he finds out," Phil said, as he hung up the phone.

I placed the phone on the desk.

I stood up, as I dusted off the chair cushion.

My eyes landed on a pale yellow file, crammed between large books on the bookshelf on top of the desk. My eyes caught the handwriting on the tab.

Andrew James —

The second line, my last name, was smudged, since the Sharpie hadn't been dry.

My finger grazed the writing as I pulled the file out.

My high school picture was paper-clipped to the front page.

I opened the file.

A page of medical references was first. My last shots and allergies were listed. I turned the page and met my birth certificate.

The name of my mother and father had been painted over with whiteout.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Someone wanted them to stay secret.

I tugged out a sheet of school papers, shifting through them to look over crayon stick figures and large-lettered handwriting.

A picture fell to the floor out of the file.

I picked it up, my eyes widening.

It was a picture of three people.

A young guy with neatly trimmed brown hair grinned at the camera, his arm wrapped around the young woman's waist. His eyes glinted in the light of the flash, gleaming a light golden brown. He wore a white button-up shirt and dark jeans that bunched up around his Nikes.

The woman smiled, her right hand clasped against his. Her long wavy blonde hair stopped at her shoulders. Her other hand was pressed against her stomach. Her light blue eyes gleamed as she smiled at the guy lovingly. She wore a turquoise dress with silver heels.

There was another guy in the photo. The guy had shaggy brown hair, golden brown eyes, and a crooked half smile. He was wearing a red jacket over a black rock band t-shirt, black jeans, and red Nikes.

I noticed a few things.

One: The white button-up the brown-haired guy was wearing, was tucked in my closet.

Two: They all wore watches—a black one for the first guy, a red one for the second, and a silver chain watch for the girl.

They all had an emblem—a tiny shield charm dangling off the girls' watch, the shield on the black watch, and the shield on the red watch. I furrowed my eyebrows. There were two crossed lines in front of the shield on the red watch.

Just like Crystal's watch…

I heard the front door slam.

My head shot up.

I shoved the papers back into the file, sliding the photo into my pocket, as I pushed the file back in between the books on the shelf. I picked up my cans and threw them away, hiding them under a bunch of tossed papers.

I grabbed my cell phone and ducked out of the room, quietly closing it as I tiptoed upstairs.

"Hi, Nick!" Computer greeted.

Nick grumbled something that must've been a hello.

I silently darted up the stairs to my room. My eyes darted to the control pad against the wall, beside the light switches. I pressed my hand against it, typed in a five-number code, and pressed the pad of my finger against the OFF button.

It blinked red once and the control pad dimmed.

I smiled. There was no way Computer could spy on me now, with it locking her out. I pushed a lock to the side, pulling the metal chain to the lock. I turned a few more locks, securing the room.

I walked over to my desk against the left wall. I opened the lid of my laptop, clicking until it entered to Google.

I slid the photo out of my pants pocket.

I flipped it over, noticing scrawled handwriting of the names.

_James Johnson, Samantha Greene, and Holt Anderson. Summer 1994._

A pestering voice in my head nagged, _1994? Hmm. A year before you were born. Coincidence?_

_Shut up and let me concentrate, _I snapped at it.

I placed the photo on the desk as I typed in all three names together.

Articles appeared.

I scanned through one, clicking and clicking and clicking.

They all had three keywords in each—_lab,_ _fire, _and _devastating._

My shoulders slumped. According to the article, James Johnson and Holt Anderson had been experimenting in a lab, something had caught aflame, and James had been rushed to a nearby hospital. They didn't say anything about Holt, but they did say some about Samantha.

Samantha Greene had become Samantha _Johnson _nine years before the accident. At the time, their son, his name unknown, had been eight years old.

James had been left in critical condition.

I thought back to the birth certificate.

My full name. Andrew James … something.

I flipped the photo over again, to stare at the faces.

James was the brown-haired guy in the white button-up.

Samantha was the pretty girl with the long blonde hair.

Holt was the guy in the rock t-shirt.

I turned my attention back to the computer, clicking on the Search box again, and typing in just James' name.

An article popped up.

I read through it.

James had been a scientist, specializing in bionics.

I clicked on an image of him,

He was standing next to his son, his hand ruffling his short brown hair.

My breath caught in my throat.

I stared at his son.

Brown hair, blue eyes, pink skin, a slight smile.

"Oh my fucking God," I breathed.

It was _me. _

Someone knocked on the wood of my door, causing me to jump out of my skin.

"Andy?" Nick said.

"Um, yeah?" I asked, surveying the computer screen closely.

"Are you busy?"

"Uh, a little," I said, finding a house address on the page.

I grabbed a notebook, scribbling the address as I printed a photo of the house. I also printed a photo of what I suspected was my … dad and me.

I opened a drawer, throwing the papers in, along with the picture I'd found in the file.

"Andy," I heard Nick try the knob on my door, "what are you doing?"

I locked the drawer, standing up and unlocking the locks on the door.

I opened it, looking at him.

"Yes?" I asked.

Nick looked at me weird. "Were you in my office?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Really," Nick said, dangling a crushed Coke can in front of my face.

"I tossed that in there because the other garbage can was full," I told him.

He looked at me. "Hmm."

"Yup," I told him, about to close the door.

He pushed it, walking in.

"Well, why don't you come on in," I said sarcastically.

He looked around. He walked over to my desk and I stiffened.

He turned to look at me, pointing at the desk.

I looked at him.

"That," he said, pointing at the trash bin underneath the desk. "You could've thrown your trash down there."

I relaxed. "Oh, silly me," I said, hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand. "I'll remember that next time."

"Yeah," Nick said, turning to me.

"Andy," He started. "I'm s-s—" Nick twisted his facial expression.

"Sorry? Oh, it's fine," I told him. "I'm sorry for overreacting!"

Nick nodded, taking a step forward. "Um," he started.

"Lemme guess," I started, sighing, "We have to hug?"

"Yeah," Nick said.

I opened my arms wide and took a step forward, and Nick did so, reluctantly.

We awkwardly wrapped our arms around each other.

I looked at him. "Is this the first time you've ever hugged?"

He shrugged.

"C'mon, man, loosen up," I said. "It's like I'm hugging Doc Oct."

He stepped back out of the hug. "We're done."

"C'mon," I whined. "That didn't even last a minute."

"I don't hug people," Nick said.

"God, I could tell," I retorted.

He glared at me as I smirked.

"I'm leaving," Nick said, turning around.

I followed him to the door.

"Well, thanks for visiting The Andy Emporium. You'll enter the gift shop downstairs," I told him in an announcer voice.

"So, you have laundry down there?" Nick asked.

I nodded, grinning, as I closed the door shut.

I glanced at the drawer, sighing in relief.

That was close.

**There's a hint at Andrew's parents.**

**SO. UM. GUYS. GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING.**

**I WENT TO THE ZOO. _AGAIN. _AND GUESS WHAT.**

**-doesn't wait for answer- THE DUDE THAT WORKED AT THE BUDGEY EXHIBIT LOOKED LIKE THOR. YEAH, HAMMER-WEILDING, GOD OF THUNDER, THOR. **

**AND-AND, THERE WAS A CUTE GUY IN THE BUTTERFLY EXHIBIT. HE WAS WEARING A SPIDERMAN SNAPBACK AND HIS BROWN HAIR CURLED OUT OF IT. OHMYGAWD. HE REMINDED ME OF PETE, GUYS. HE HAD A CAMERA AND WAS TAKING PICTURES OF THE BUTTERFLIES AND HUMMINGBIRDS. HE WAS ALSO VERY SMART. **

**Excuse me while I fangirl over his hotness…**

**But, yeah, that's my zoo tale. **

**Um. What else. **

**I'm all excited because The Hunger Games comes out the 18th (PERCY JACKSON'S FREAKING BIRTHDAY!) and the day I go back to school, The Demigod Diaries is supposed to come out, too.**

**Ok. Review time—**

**NoNameX—I PM'd you.**

**Lillianna Rider—I PM'd you, too. Glad you survived school!**

**That's it. So.**

**Review, please. **


	7. Old Friends

**I just watched Sherlock Holmes: The Game of Shadows. It's freaking epic. Sure, I had to rewind a few times to understand, and I was double guessing _everything_, but I loved it. **

**I loved how Holmes would camouflage and make disguises.**

**Maybe the fact that Robert Downey Jr was in it, made it better.**

**I mean, Man of Iron (aka Holmes) being Iron Man in a different movie is something Holmes would actually do, to make you second guess.**

**Without further ado, the story.**

The next morning, I'd flopped out of my bed as the alarm screeched in my ear like a banshee. I picked it up and threw it at a wall, slamming my head into the pillow that had already been positioned on the floor.

"I hate mornings," I moaned into the pillow.

I dragged my sorry ass up, and sleepily walked into the bathroom.

I rubbed my eyes, yawning. I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I walked out, grabbing a pair of jeans and my white button-up. I walked into the bathroom once again, pulling my jeans over my red boxers, as I buttoned and zipped them. I tugged my pajama shirt off as I tossed it on the tile floor.

I picked up my white button-up, unfolding it.

It looked exactly like the one in the picture.

I unbuttoned it, sliding my right arm into the soft cloth. My left arm quickly followed. I began to button it, leaving the top two buttons untouched. I rolled up the sleeves to my elbows.

I looked up at the mirror and gave a white-teethed smile.

I ran a brush through my hair, not bothering to spike it.

I walked out of my bathroom, grabbing my cell phone and the papers from the drawer, which I stuffed in my backpack. I slung the backpack over my shoulder, double-checking to make sure the jetpack was in there. I hopped down the stairs to the living room. I entered the kitchen, surprised at the fact that Nick wasn't there.

His coffee pot sat untouched, spitting out black steamy coffee.

I walked in, hearing Computer say, "You look nice today, Andy."

"Thanks," I said, walking to the fridge. "Where's Nick?"

"He got called in early," she told me.

"Oh," I said, pulling out a jug of orange juice.

I placed it on the counter, glancing at the clock.

It was Saturday, so I had no school, which was fine by me.

I poured the orange juice in a cup.

I drank the juice, grabbing a red apple from a display on the kitchen table.

"I'm heading out," I told Computer, tossing the cup into the sink as I walked down to the front door.

I closed the door behind me, hearing Computer lock it.

I unzipped my backpack, pulling out the notebook paper with the address.

I pulled out my jetpack, stuffing my other papers in a secret compartment built into it. I fastened it to me, pressing the ignition button; hearing flames flush out of it, as it sent me soaring sky-high.

I checked the address again, glancing at a small neighborhood.

I landed and placed the jetpack gently into a bush, making sure the foliage hid it. I pulled out the other papers, carefully putting them in my pocket.

I walked up to the first person I saw—a middle-aged guy with graying black hair, blue-gray eyes, and a laid-back demeanor.

He was picking up his newspaper as I walked up to him.

"Sir," I started, trying to be as polite as possible, "is there a house with this address in this neighborhood?" I gestured to the notebook paper.

He glanced at it, scratching the back of his head. "Not that I know of."

He looked up, staring at me. "Andrew? Andrew Fury?"

I stiffened. "Um. Yeah?"

He smiled. "I haven't seen you since you moved."

I stared at him, confused. "Um. Okay?"

"I'm Keith's stepfather," He said.

I grinned. "Mr. Harley!"

He smiled and we shared a short hug.

"So, how have you been?" Steve Harley asked.

"I've been great!" I said, ecstatically.

"And, about this address?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, about that," I said. "Well…"

The front door slammed closed.

We both looked back and Keith noticed us.

He saw me and grinned. "Andy!"

Keith hadn't changed much. His short red hair was fashioned like a buzz cut, but the hair on the side of his head was longer than most cuts. The hair on the top of his head flared out long, reminding me of flames.

He ran over and we did this really gay handshake we'd made up in ninth grade.

He gave me a bro hug. "I haven't seen you in, like, ever, man!"

I grinned. "I've missed ya, bud."

He gave my hair a ruffle. "So, what have ya been up to these last few years?"

"Oh, you know, fighting bad guys," I said, shrugging.

"Oh. You're a cop?" Mr. Harley asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"So… you're undercover?" Mr. Harley tried.

"In a way… Yes," I said.

Mr. Harley nodded at me, waving as he turned around to walk back into his house.

Keith looked at me, perking an eyebrow. "So, what have you _really _been up to?"

I smiled. "Still been fighting bad guys."

He looked at me knowingly, his blue-green eyes glowing.

"So, you're in the superhero business?" He asked, twisting his facial expression. "Whatever happened to being my partner in crime?"

"Keith," I started.

"Look, I know you got adopted," Keith said, "but you didn't have to completely abandon your old habits."

"Trust me," I chuckled, "Nick tried to get rid of my old habits."

"So, you're saying you still have sticky fingers?" Keith mused. "That you still lie? That you still sneak out? That you still vandalize?"

"I … dabble," I muttered, shrugging.

"Not as much anymore, hmm?" Keith asked, rubbing his chin.

I sighed. "So, maybe I've changed a _bit_…"

"A bit? Well, that makes two of us," Keith replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm… Well, it's hard to explain," Keith said. "You know good cop, bad cop?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, well, I'm both," Keith said, smiling.

"So… you're a villain and a super?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Yup," Keith said, popping the 'p'.

"What's your name then?" I asked.

He smiled. "Well, I know you're keeping your secrets, so isn't it right that I keep mine?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "What would you like to know?"

"The reason you're really here," Keith told me.

"I can't visit an old friend?" I asked.

He perked an eyebrow, and I sighed.

"I'm … on a mission," I told him.

"Ah. A mission?" Keith repeated, his interest clearly perked.

"Yes. A mission to find this address," I handed the paper to Keith.

He looked it over. "What's it for?"

"Sorry. Confidential S.H.I.E.L.D business," I said, knowing by the twinkle in his eye that he was hooked.

Keith always did have a thirst for danger and secrecy.

"Okay," Keith said, "so, you want me to help?"

"I could use it," I said.

He grinned.

"Okay. I'll help you find this address. _If,_" Keith started.

My shoulder slumped. I most certainly didn't want to give Keith a favor.

"If you, say, oh, I don't know, let me _slip _into the S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier _unseen_? I know you have that special little invisibility power," Keith replied. "I can help you find out more about this address of yours."

I stared at him. "Deal," I said, placing my hand in his, as we shared a firm shake.

"Alrighty," Keith said, "off on our own, like old times."

He looked at me, as he snapped his fingers.

I heard something _whir _and watched in shock as something broke through the tan garage door. A humming silver hover board soared over the driveway and hovered in front of us.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

Keith nudged me toward it.

"C'mon, you act as if you've never seen a hover board before," Keith laughed. "You're the son of fucking Nick Fury!"

I nodded, staring at it. "Yeah. Wait. This looks just like the Goblin's…"

I turned to stare at him.

"What? So, I acquired it! If I'm gonna be the New Goblin, I might as well improve the old!" Keith wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Now, what are you waiting for, Andy?" Keith asked. "Get on."

**I hope you guys liked the chapter.**

**I know Harry Osborn was the New Goblin (according to Google), but the funny thing, is I just looked it up and I honestly didn't want to make his old friend Harry because that'd be confusing… so, now, Keith Harley is the New Goblin.**

**I know I'm messing with the original characters…**

**But I hope you like it all the same.**

**Review, please.**


	8. Home Is Where The Hearth Is

Keith could barely drive a car, let alone a floating hover board. Keith was balanced on it, his feet spread apart evenly, his face determined.

Meanwhile, I was holding onto him for dear life, my arms wrapped around his chest and practically choking him, as I muttered, "Oh, god. Oh, god. I'm gonna die. Get me off this thing! Get me off!"

"Calm down," Keith said, as he struggled to unwrap my arms from his neck. "Stop being such a pussy, Andy. It's like a roller coaster."

"Yeah, a damn roller coaster where you can fall and fucking _face plant _in the middle of the damn highway!" I screeched in his ear.

He turned his head to glare at me. "Andy, it's fine. I know how to drive this thing."

"Yeah, sure you do," I snapped sarcastically. "Like the time when we were riding go-karts and you almost _killed _me?"

"I did not almost kill you," Keith argued. "I slammed you into the side of the track."

"They're called _go-karts, _not freaking _bumper cars_!" I shouted.

Keith waved a hand at me to tell me I was annoying him.

I huffed angrily. "You know, I could just use my jet-pack."

He turned to me. "Where is it?"

My eyes widened. "Shit!"

Keith rolled his eyes. "You forgot it, didn't you?"

"Aw, _maaan. _Nick is gonna _kill _me," I whined.

Keith chuckled. "If you hid it well enough, it should still be there."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right…"

The hover board soared for a while more, entering a suburban neighborhood.

"Is this it?" I asked, looking around.

"I think," Keith said.

I tugged out the printed picture of the house.

"Uh, it's a white house with blue trim," I told him.

Keith nodded, sending his hover board soaring until we reached a white house.

Keith glanced at me and nudged me forward. We both walked up to the door, but as I poised my hand to knock, Keith stopped me.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't we need an alibi?" Keith asked me.

I stared at him.

"You know, a reason to be here," Keith said. "Like, a fake name and a fake company or—I know! We could be selling Girl Scout cookies."

"Girl Scout cookies?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. "We're two high-school guys selling _Girl Scout cookies_? Dude, hell to the no."

Keith glared at me. "Fine. Think of something better."

"We could, oh, I don't know, be _ourselves_?" I told him, getting frustrated.

"Fine, sure, whatever," Keith said.

My finger pressed against the doorbell.

You know how you usually hear the doorbell chime?

Yeah, well, that didn't happen exactly.

I heard a slight _click_ and then a rhythmic _tick-tick-tick. _The ticking grew louder and became more rapid.

My heart froze as I realized that something was wrong.

I took a step back. "Keith…"

"Yeah?" He asked, noticing whatever it was, too.

"What the hell is that sound?" I asked him.

Keith looked at me. "Dude, I don't know."

I pressed my ear against the glass of the door.

The thing was, the glass wasn't cool like you'd expect.

It was burning with heat.

I jumped back in surprise. "Ow!" I yelped, my hand shooting to my ear. I rubbed it between my fingers.

Keith's eyes widened as I turned to look at him.

I could see a reflection in the blue-green pools.

Orange. And something black slinking toward the door.

I turned around and shouted, "Keith! We need to leave!"

I shoved him backward, jerking him back to reality as he rushed to his board.

I rushed toward Keith. "Man, hurry the hell up!"

"I'm trying!" Keith shouted back, standing on it impatiently. "How the hell does this thing boot up?"

"I don't know—I'm not the freaking Goblin!" I screamed at him. "Maybe you should've checked how to turn the damn thing _on _before you stole it!"

Keith rolled his eyes. "Just give it time."

"That's one thing we don't have!" I snapped, turning around to stare at the door. Whatever was on the other side was struggling to open it.

I turned to him, angry. I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to just leave. I didn't want whatever was inside that house to get us because then it'd be _my _fault—because wasn't it always my fault? I always got blamed for stupid shit I didn't do because I was a 'juvenile delinquent'.

Bitch please, I still was.

In anger, I stomped my foot on the metal board in frustration.

It started beeping and I groaned aloud.

Keith jumped off of it in a panic. "Oh, god, what did you do?"

I stared at it. "All I did was kick it…"

We both backed up.

The beeping became more rapid.

"Duck!" I screamed as we jumped into some bushes for cover as the beeping increased even more.

We heard a pop and watched in horror as the hover board flew into the air and exploded into flying smoldering metal bits.

"Well, there goes my ride," Keith mumbled miserably.

"Sorry about that," I said, ending with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Keith said, seeming calm.

"Really?" I asked skeptically.

"No, you douche! I'm gonna freaking kill you!" Keith leapt at me.

I yelped as he shoved me down and attacked me.

"Get off!" I shouted, shoving him back hard.

"You _blew up _my _stolen _motherfucking _Goblin Glider_!" Keith seethed, lunging to attack me again. "You don't understand how much trouble I'll be in! Norman will burn me alive!"

I held him back with my arms, struggling to keep my neck as far from his outstretched clawing hands as possible. "Keith, relax!"

"I CAN'T RELAX!" Keith shouted. "I WAS GOING TO BRING THE DAMN THING BACK, GODDAMMIT!"

"Dude, stop cussing! People will hear you!" I snapped at him.

Keith soothed his breathing and stopped trying to strangle me. He sat on the ground, his head resting in his hands. He glanced at me, "Now, what? How are we supposed to go anywhere with our ride demolished?"

"Not sure," I said, shrugging.

My gaze went back to the door and I remembered why we'd been in such a panic.

The door was open. I could see flames licking out of it, brushing the wooden floor. Fire exploded upward, blowing out the glass windows. I stared at the place in shock, slowly taking out the picture of the house from my pocket.

No. No. _No. No! _

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to do something other than just sit there and watch my childhood home get burnt to the ground.

So, I did the only thing that seemed right.

I ran into the flames with no care in world, but one.

Save as much as you can.

**I know, guys, left you with a cliffhanger, but it's better than no chapter at all. Or is it?**

**I'll set to work on the next chapter right after I post this.**

**I have school tomorrow so I'm trying to make sure I update this so I can set work on the next one, so I don't leave you guys with nothing.**

**Keith is going to get his ass kicked, as we all know. I mean, no one steals from Norman Osborne and gets away with it.**

**Review answer time—**

**NoNameX—I know. Andy isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Sherlock Holmes is flipping awesome. Does he have like a photographic memory? They kept blinking back at situations before, like with the wine spilling or when he dressed up as the woman and went ninja on all the people. Yeah, he's pretty amazing. I had to watch it by myself, since my mom and dad didn't really care for it. I was like, "WHAT. MOM. IT'S ROBERT DOWNEY JR. HOW CAN YOU NOT WANT TO WATCH IT." **

**Lillianna Rider—I'm glad! Here's the update!**

**I'll update later this week. I'll try before the weekend. **

**I'll maybe make a cover for this, but I'll have to find someone who kinda looks like Andy or I could make it the entire team? I don't know. Whatever you guys think it best. **

**So, guys, I'm gonna say this as honestly as possible—I'm obsessed. Again. I was obsessed with Spiderman when I was younger (you've hear that), and I got obsessed all over again. I realized that when I had a taste test yesterday.**

**My dad was driving me and I turned to look at this one car.**

**And, once again… The dude looked like Tony Stark. But, then again, I did watch the episode where Spidey fanboys over Tony, so maybe that's why he looked like him.**

**But, I sat there and stared at the guy. He had this cool sleek black car.**

**Unless all the MARVEL characters think Nebraska is unsafe or something, I don't have a good reason as to why I keep seeing them. But, one—I'm obsessed. **

**That was my tale and I hoped you liked the story.**

**Review please.**


	9. BOOM BOOM POW

I JUST REALIZED THE DUDE THAT PLAYS IN SOME BOURNE MOVIE IS THE DUDE THAT PLAYS AS HAWKEYE IN THE AVENGERS. OHMYGOD. I HAVE TO SEE THAT.

Keith was screaming after me.

"Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing?" He shouted. "Have you gone mad!"

"Mad like the Mad Hatter," I mumbled under my breath as I ran through the flames. My eyes flew to the burning pictures on the walls. I grabbed a cluster of them in my arms, rushing back to toss them into a soft bush.

"Hey!" I shouted at Keith. "Call the fire department, would ya?"

Keith dug his phone from his pocket and dialed the number as I ran back in.

I grabbed as many pictures as I could, tossed them in the bush, and darted upstairs. I ran into a cloud of smoke on the landing and coughed into my forearm. I opened a door, walking into it blindly.

I looked around, surprised that this room was untouched by flames, yet thick with smoke. Fire rimmed the sides of the walls, but didn't ignite to the light tan carpet.

I looked around, realizing it was a study. A black briefcase was on an empty desk. The bookshelves in the desks were empty. My eyes landed on a picture frame, lying facedown.

I picked it up, staring at the shattered glass that plinked onto the desk.

The photograph was of James and Samantha holding a young brown-haired toddler on their lap. James grinned, his arm wrapped around Samantha's waist. The toddler (which was me), sat on her lap, taking an interest in my father's shiny black watch, which I realized was the one with the shield.

I stared at the slight claw indentions in the photograph.

I hoped it was just my imagination as I clasped my hand around the frame and gazed at the briefcase. I picked it up, as I walked to the next room.

I walked into what I suspected was the master bedroom—_my parent's _bedroom, to be exact. I bit my lip as I examined the shredded comforter and sheets and pillows.

I walked up to the bedside table, opening one of the drawers.

I gazed inside, scowling at the absence of anything in it.

Before I closed it, I narrowed my eyes, staring at something in the back of it.

I placed my hand in the wooden drawer, kneeling as I pushed my hand further inside. My hand touched something leathery and I jumped back slightly. My fingers closed around a strap and I pulled the thing forward.

I stared at the leather-bound journal, furrowing my eyebrows as I picked it up. I moved it around in my hands, flicking the strap with my fingernail. I tugged at it but it didn't budge. I stared at the emblem engraved into the leather.

A shield. Two scythes crossed over it.

I stared at it, rubbing my thumb over the emblem.

I heard something snap from behind me.

My heart pounded against my ribcage as I heard something snarl.

I froze, my hand tightening on the journal. I slowly turned around.

My gaze fell on nothing, just a feather floating through the air.

I watched it flutter to the floor.

I stared at it a moment longer as I slowly placed the suitcase on the bed, opening it and placing the journal and frame on a few folders. I didn't bother to look inside—I needed to get out of here before the floor broke from beneath me or the ceiling collapsed on top of me.

I closed the suitcase, ready to walk back downstairs when I heard the snarl again.

I walked forward, darting out of the room, and down the stairs. I yelped as the fire broke the staircase.

I should've seen _that _coming.

I heard a roar from the master bedroom.

Without thinking twice, I took a few steps back, and ran as hard as I could to the other side of the stairs. My head slammed into the wall, and I winced, but quickly got up and staggered forward.

I ignored the sizzling of the flames and the roaring of the thing that was pounding out of the master bedroom and down the broken stairs.

I rushed forward, catching sight of the door.

I choked on a puff of smoke, hacking into my arm, kneeling over as I dry-hacked into it. I heard something crack behind me, as I averted my gaze from the door as my eyes landed on the huge furry brown cat thing that was slinking down the stairs.

It stopped moving, as the cracking grew louder.

The animals' catlike eyes blinked between emerald green and caramel brown.

I froze, staring up at it. It cocked its head, opening its mouth to reveal sharp canines as its rough tough stuck out in a hiss. I backed up toward the door.

No way.

That _thing _was in my flashback.

This was crazy. This was _insane._

I took a step back, practically tripping on my own feet, as I rushed toward the door. I opened it, slamming it shut, which didn't help the fact that the rest of the glass in the door shattered.

I noticed the three fire trucks, the worried neighbors, Keith standing off to the side, his hands in his pockets, his expression scared shitless.

I snapped my fingers, disappearing before anyone saw me.

Thank God the suitcase disappeared with me. We didn't need sightings of a floating suitcase. That would be worse than this.

I ran over to Keith, elbowing him.

He turned to me, confused. "Oh, God. Andy. If you're a ghost, I'm so sorry! Don't haunt me, man!" Keith used his hands to make a finger cross as he backed away from me.

"Dude, chill," I said. "I'm not a ghost. I'm just invisible."

Keith grinned at me. "Dude, why haven't you trolled so many people?!"

"Um, maybe because I'm not an ass?" I told him, crossing my arms.

Keith shrugged, glancing at the burning house.

"We better get going," Keith told me, "before the police come and question us. I have a record, ya know."

I stared at him a little warily. "What? A record? Dude, what do you _do _in your spare time?"

He smirked. "Depends."

"On _what_?" I asked.

He rubbed his thumb against the rest of his fingers.

I rolled my eyes, "Look, we can't leave. Whoever—_whatever_—caused this fire is still here. What if one of the officers or fire fighters or pedestrians gets hurt?"

Keith bit his lip, chewing on it. "I… Fine. We'll stay. But if the po-po come after me, I'm hightailing it outta here."

I nodded. "Okay." I looked around, standing behind him as I willed myself to be visible again.

I looked around at the people.

Elderly couples stood beside each other, their arms wrapped around each other's chests, as they watched in horror as the house burned orange. Teenagers stood to the side, surrounded by shocked parents, who held young kids close to their chests.

I glanced at Keith. "What should we do?"

"I know," Keith said excitedly. "You go invisible and eavesdrop and I'll… flirt with some girls." Keith glanced at a few girls who were eyeing him.

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, Keith, that's a _brilliant _idea."

I sighed, walking a little ways away to stand behind a pine tree. I concentrated and went invisible. I turned back around and ran forward toward the group of police officers.

I stood in the middle of the circle, listening in.

"There's no reason for the fire," one of the officers said. He was a dark-haired guy, with scratchy stubble on his face. His eyebrows were slanted as he looked at the other officers.

"Maybe it was something with the wiring?" A blonde officer asked, scratching underneath his blue police hat.

"Could've been something careless," Another said. "A cigarette, maybe."

_Or, you know, your everyday bomb, _I thought.

I thought back to the bomb.

The clicking, the door opening, the fire…

I knit my eyebrows.

_Where's the explosion in that chain reaction?_

I turned, staring at the back of the house, watching a black shadow slink around the side of the burning house. My eyes focused on the only thing I could really pinpoint—brown shaggy hair gleamed in the light of the fire.

I straightened to try to see over all the officer's heads. The shadow was walking forward, not very sneakily, but enough to cause suspicion.

The guy walked toward the gawking group, melding himself in the crowd of onlookers. My eyes were pinned on his brown hair though, following him until he stopped near the edge of the street, beside the light pole.

The pole flickered as he stood underneath it.

I watched him bring up his arm, noticing the angry red burn marks on his forearm. His hand was covered in soot, as well as his clothes. His red hoodie looked black from being scorched so much.

I watched him pull something from his pocket, something like a box.

It opened like a jewelry box, revealing a shiny red button labeled DANGER.

My eyes widened as his hand slowly bent at the wrist and he aimed his finger at the button.

I went into high-alert mode. There were innocent people here—people who had no clue what was happening, people who had beautiful futures ahead of them, people who didn't _deserve _this.

I shoved past the officers, racing past them.

I heard them shout indignantly behind me, but I kept running.

Keith turned and looked at me, a smile playing on his lips.

It quickly faded.

I leapt through the air like a leopard, tackling the guy from behind.

He cried out as I landed on him, and I watched in dismay as the box flew from his hands and soared through the air.

I watched Keith rush forward, soaring through the air to grab the box and clamp it shut. He hit the concrete with force and I heard him moan in pain as his arm slid against the asphalt.

I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding.

Keith grinned through the pained expression on his face, glancing at me and holding up the box.

I felt something cold press against the back of my head and watched Keith's eyes grow wide.

"Andrew Fury, Keith Harley," A voice full of authority said, "You two are under arrest for vandalism to private property and assault."

The guy under me turned his head so that I caught a look at his face.

His golden brown eyes flashed with recognition.

I stared at him. Golden brown eyes, shaggy brown hair…

"Holt Anderson?" I felt myself whisper.

He didn't answer, but the way shame filled his eyes was enough.

I felt someone pull me off of him.

I turned, unhappy that it was the officer who was arresting me for something I didn't do. I mean, seriously. Why did this always happen to _me_?

I was even unhappier with the fact that the officer who'd picked me up had taken my briefcase from me and placed it on the ground beside his foot.

"Anything you say may be held against you," I heard one officer tell Keith as he picked him off the ground and tightened cuffs around his wrists.

"Selena Gomez," I heard Keith say weakly.

I felt the cold metal of cuffs as I was led to a cop car with Keith.

I turned around and realized the jewelry box on the floor.

A cop went over and inspected it, opening the box and looking down curiously.

"No!" I screamed as his pen fell from his hand, landing on that red button.

With that one accidental push, the house I'd known my entire life exploded.

But, at least the people had been focused on us instead the house. They'd drifted far enough away to not explode along with the house.

The exploding house was enough of a distraction for Keith.

He turned, head butting the officer holding him. He jumped, swooping his arms underneath him, bringing his cuffed hands in front of him. He shouldered my officer, knocking him to the floor.

He looked at me and I jumped over my hands, so that my cuffed hands were in front of me, too.

I picked up my suitcase, glancing at the confused and dazed onlookers.

Keith smiled, waving with one hand, which is hard to do when you're still cuffed.

He turned to me. "Let's get outta here."

I nodded, and without hesitation, we took off as fast as we could.

Not the best ending, I know, but I wanted to not give you a cliffy chapter. I survived my first full day of school. Barely.

**Review time—**

**Lillianna Rider—Here's the update!**

**ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies—Haha, thanks, here ya go.**

**NoNameX—You did tell him! But he doesn't listen… I'll check out that photobucket thing tomorrow after school. **


	10. Pulverized With Friends

**Sorry, guys. I posted this three times, and twice it was the wrong one. So. This is the correct one. Continue reading. Enjoy.**

I didn't stop running until we were six blocks away. I fell to my knees in the middle of the street, out of breath and exhausted.

Keith was ahead of me, still running.

"Keith!" I shouted, panting like a dog. "Keith! Stop running!"

"No! We need to keep going!" Keith shouted back stubbornly.

I stood, wincing in pain at the soreness in my legs.

I forced myself to look up and take a step.

Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right.

Again and again until I passed an alley and heard Keith whisper, "_Psst._"

I stopped, turning to see him. Somehow, he'd broken the chain of his cuffs.

He gave me a grin as he held up a pair of wire cutters.

He walked forward and cut the chain.

The metal clasps were still pinching, but we couldn't possibly take them off when we had nothing to use.

Keith looked me over. "How in the hell are you not burnt?"

I looked down at my tan arms.

I shrugged. "I'm special."

"Special Ed," Keith muttered and I resisted punching him upside the head.

I inspected his bleeding forearm. "That looks bad," I told him. "I could get it fixed up. I just need health supplies."

"From where?" Keith asked, wrinkling his nose.

I thought a moment. "S.H.I.E.L.D has an extensive health care unit."

Keith grinned. "I get to go into the Helicarrier?" He asked excitedly.

I glanced at him warily. "Or, you could stand outside?"

Keith pouted. "C'mon, man! I saved your skin back there!"

"Yeah, I know you did," I started.

"Dude, if I go back to my own agency, you know I'm going to get fired, right?" Keith asked me, his eyes pleading. "They take the term seriously there!"

I stared at him. "What agency is it?"

Keith stopped himself. He looked guilty.

"I… I can't say," He told me. "It's a highly secretive agency."

"Highly secretive?" I asked.

Keith nodded. "Can I stay at your base for a while?"

I stared at him. "My base?"

"Yeah. The Helicarrier," Keith told me. "I can't risk going back to my own. They'll flip. But, if I came into yours… I could look into the owners of that address."

I contemplated my situation.

Pros—Help a friend and find out about my parents, maybe even this other agency.

Cons—Get caught sneaking in a fugitive by Nick.

Keith realized my hesitance and added, "You promised."

I sighed. I didn't break promises.

"Fine," I grumbled, ignoring Keith's enthusiastic, "Yes! Oh my god! This is awesome!"

I rolled my eyes at him, turning toward him.

"We need to get to your house, so I can grab my jetpack," I told him.

He nodded, grinning.

I felt my watch buzz.

I glanced at it and saw Nova.

"Hey, Sam," I said to him.

He glared at me. "Dude! Where are you!"

I looked around. "Um. An alley."

I watched White Tiger grab hold of Nova's arm to glare at the screen.

"Andy! We've been calling you for hours!" Ava snapped.

Keith looked over my shoulder. "Damn. Who's she?"

I elbowed him as I tugged my cell phone from my pocket.

Fifteen missed calls.

I turned my gaze to the watch apologetically.

"Guys, I am _so _sorry," I said.

Luke came to the screen. "What have you been doing?"

Ava snapped, "He's been causing fires, that's what!"

I sighed. "No, I didn't cause the fire!"

"Then, what did, Andy?" Pete asked.

I thought for a moment.

What caused the fire?

My vision flashed to the cat, which dissolved in flames, revealing a guy with shaggy brown hair in a soot-covered sweatshirt and jeans.

I subconsciously said, "Holt Anderson."

They all stared at me.

"Who?" Sam asked.

I shook my head. "No one."

"Andy," Danny said, "Nothing weighs upon you more than a secret."

"Try a building," Luke grumbled.

I caught on that something bad had happened.

"What did you guys need me for?" I asked, realizing how obnoxious I sounded.

Ava glared at me. "There was a robbery down in the Square."

"Oh," I replied dumbly.

I heard something clank from behind me.

I turned around. "Keith, would you keep it—" My eyes widened.

Standing not five feet away was a man in a green scorpion suit.

Keith stared at him. "Dammit. Uh, hi, Mac."

Mac Gargan—I'd heard of him. He was The Scorpion, another one of Spidey's enemies. So, in other words, this dude was not happy to see me.

Pete's voice echoed from the watch. "Andy? Andy! Where'd you go?"

Mac took a step forward, his dark green boot glistening in the streetlights. His tail stretched behind him, the sharp tip oozing a green liquid.

Keith smiled, holding out his hands in an apologetic shrug.

"C'mon, Mac. No hard feelings over last week?" Keith smiled.

In response, Mac's lip curled up in a snarl, as he quickly turned around, slamming into us with his tail.

I was thrown against a dumpster.

My head hit the metal and I shouted in pain.

Sam shouted from the watch, "Andy! Andy, say something!"

I put my face up to the watch, feeling blood slide down my forehead and over my closed left eye. "I need back-up!" I shouted.

I looked up as Mac sneered at me.

"You're Nick Fury's son, aren't you?" Mac asked.

I looked at him, as Keith started gesturing for me to not say anything.

"You are!" Mac said, grinning psychotically. "That's perfect!"

I looked at him, confused. "Perfect?"

He smiled, which honestly, he shouldn't do.

"Yes, _perfect_," Mac said, slinking toward me.

I scrambled to my feet, grimacing in pain, turning to where Keith laid, slumped against a wall.

"Keith," I started, edging closer to where he was as Mac eyed me.

"Keith," I raised my voice. "Dammit, Keith!"

Keith didn't answer, which pissed me off.

Mac took another step forward.

"Whoa, hey, dude, back up," I said, holding up my hands.

Mac laughed harshly. There were only two steps left.

I took a step back, glancing nervously at an unconscious Keith.

"Keith, c'mon," I pleaded, taking another step back.

I heard a "whoop!" from somewhere above me.

Mac turned around, glancing up.

Nova flew down, grinning through his helmet.

"Andy!" Nova shouted. "You okay, buddy?"

My hand brushed against my bloody forehead.

"Um, yeah, but my friend isn't!" I shouted back.

Mac growled. "Spiderman."

I looked up and noticed Spidey, P-Man, and White Tiger stood on the roof of the building, overlooking where we were.

I sighed in relief.

Maybe, I wasn't going to get pulverized by The Scorpion.

Mac turned to me, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched.

"You," He snapped angrily, pointing at me. "_You _sent them."

I backed up. "No, no, Mac, you've got it wrong—"

He glared at me, leaping forward, so that his hot breath brushed my face.

I gulped.

Well… I would get pulverized… but with friends.

**Guys, I am _so _sorry for not updating. I had two flipping hours of homework _today, _and I haven't even finished my math because it's due Friday.**

**But, yeah, I hope you guys like the chapter.**

**I'm bringing in more characters—especially villains.**

**So… Have a great week guys. I have to play a wii game with my sister before she freaks on me. I'll update when I have time!**


	11. Hurt But Alive

Mac shot them a glare, which my friends returned.

I slowly edged to Keith, bending down to pick him off the ground, wrapping his limp arm around my neck as I shouldered him against me.

He moaned in pain.

Mac turned around, his eyes glinting crazily.

He glared, as I heard his tail start to make a slight whirring sound.

I looked at him, trying to think of a less dangerous way to solve this without getting stabbed through the heart with a venom-tipped thorn.

"Um, c'mon, Mac," I started nervously. "What did Keith do? Surely we could work something out, right?"

Mac curled his lips into a snarl.

"No, we can't fix this," Mac snapped. "It's between _me _and _him_." Mac gabbed a thumb at Keith, who was drooling on my shoulder.

"Well, what happened?" I asked.

Mac glared at me, but finally said, "He lied to me. I take trust seriously."

I sighed, frustrated at how vague he was being.

"Mac," I said, "just tell me what Keith lied about."

"He lied about his family," Mac spat, angrily. "He didn't come out and say who the hell was his father. It's not Steve Harley."

I nodded. "That's his stepfather."

Mac shook his head. "No. It's his brother."

Confusion flooded my face.

"Brother? Steve's his brother?" My voice went embarrassingly high.

Spiderman and White Tiger slinked down the apartment via fire escape, as Nova grabbed hold of P-Man's shoulders. I looked for Iron Fist but couldn't find him.

Mac nodded, disgusted. "Steve's his brother. And, his father," He grimaced in distaste, before continuing, "is _Norman._"

I heard Peter gasp, and Mac was about to turn around, when I unclasped a hand from Keith's shoulder and took a step forward, grabbing Mac's wrist.

He froze, his tail bending to form the shape of an arch.

Mac's lips curled up to show yellow canines.

"What are you doing?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"Um," I started, not really sure. I glanced at Spiderman, who was now a few feet from a closed dumpster.

Mac snarled. "Don't touch me. Let go."

I let go of his wrist, aware of his yellow-shaded eyes glaring at me.

"Andrew," He growled. "You may be the son of James Jameson, but that gives you no right to think you're better than everyone else."

I raised an eyebrow. "I never said I was better than anyone else. And, how'd you know about James?"

Mac glanced at the walls of the alley, as if afraid that someone was listening on the conversation, besides my friends and me.

Mac shook his head. "I-I've said too much."

I shook my head. "No, Mac, you've said the complete opposite. You've said too little."

He looked at me, suddenly wary.

"The walls have ears," He whispered, taking a step closer. "Everyone you trust, will fail you. That's what happens. All the time, in every story you've heard, in every movie you've seen, every game you've played. It always happens. Just be ready, kid."

On that happy note, Mac shot Keith a snarl as he leapt into the air, grabbing hold of one of the roof walls. He looked back at me and I couldn't see that crazy deranged look in his eyes anymore—just bottomless pits of sadness and mistrust.

He turned his back, bolting into a run.

Nova watched him go in dismay, placing Power Man onto solid ground.

"You just let him go?" Nova asked, disappointed. "Without a fight? No action?"

Power Man ignored him, walking toward me, grimacing at my forehead and the blood oozing from the open wound.

"You're gonna need to get bandaged up," He said, looking me over.

I shrugged. "No. Keith needs it more."

P-Man inspected Keith's state. "Yeah, you're right."

Ava stepped toward me and without hesitation, punched me hard in the shoulder.

"OW," I said, glaring at her. "Thanks, Ave."

She smiled. "Yeah. I know."

Spiderman walked over. "How… How did Mac find you?"

I shrugged. "According to Mac, Keith lied to him. Mac wanted an apology."

They all sized Keith up. "And, how would Keith know Mac?" Ava asked.

If I came clean and let everyone know that Keith was the New Goblin, would they just shrug it off or would they abandon any chance of helping him?

It wasn't that Keith was a bad guy—sure, he did some bad things, but I used to do them, too. They were just minor offences—vandalism, some stealing, nothing that huge—and Keith said he helped the heroes sometimes. He was a good cop and a bad one—somehow a villain and a super at once.

I sighed. I didn't like lying, but I seemed to be doing it more often.

"I don't know. Keith works at some big company or something and he gave Mac the wrong information, which pissed him off. You know how Mac Garner is," I said.

I knew right away they didn't believe me.

Keith moaned into my shoulder, clearly in pain, which made them turn their suspicious gazes away from me.

Power Man walked over, hefting him against his shoulder.

"We'll take him to the infirmary," P-Man told me, "but _you _get fixed up, too. You're hurt, no matter how many times you say you aren't."

I nodded, as we all walked from the alley to the street.

…

When we arrived at the Helicarrier, everyone seemed to know the news about what had happened.

I followed them toward the infirmary room, but slowed my pace, turning toward the bathroom, instead. I walked into the men's room, going straight for the paper towel dispenser. I pulled out a few scraps of it, ripping it off, as I turned on the sink.

Water flowed freely from the spout. I dipped the paper towel under the water, placing it against my forehead.

I looked up into the mirror, wincing at the scratchy texture of the paper towel. Dried blood ran from my forehead, over my eyebrow, dipped down near my eye and slid down the side of my nose.

I grabbed another paper towel, using this one to furiously scrub the crusted blood from my face. I tossed the used paper towel in the trash, pressing the other to my forehead.

I pulled it from my forehead, glancing at it.

I really regretted that.

It was glistening in blood. I suddenly felt lightheaded, as if the room was tilting to the side, as I grabbed the edges of the sink and started dry heaving.

I closed my eyes in pain, seeing the purple, blue and green dots dance over my closed eyelids and explode in snow, like what you see on your television screen when it's on the fritz.

I opened my eyes, seeing the dots grow in size, as if the lights were engraving themselves into my mind's eye. The paper towel I held tightly in my hand dropped to the white tile floor as I stared at my reflection.

I stared at my white button-up in dismay.

Blood from my forehead had dripped on it.

I'd have to ask Peter how to get blood stains out of clothes later.

I ran my red hands under the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face, watching blood spiral down the sink in a shiny red tornado.

I felt sick. Maybe I should have gone down to the infirmary with everybody, like Luke had said.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror, and walking out of the bathroom.

I walked into the infirmary, ignoring a few looks I got from the people in there, as I walked up to one of the top doctors.

Bruce looked shocked at my state, but didn't say anything as he wrapped a bandage around my head. He'd put a ton of Neosporin all over it, which really only smudged the blood worse. He finished wrapping the bandage, pressing the ends so that they didn't unravel, and looked me over.

Luke walked in with the rest of the guys.

Danny stared at me, not seeming to be able to comprehend that I was hurt.

Luke walked over. "You _finally _came in?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. It honestly wasn't that bad."

Bruce looked appalled. "Not that bad? This is one of the most severe cases of—"

I held up a hand as I added, "See? Not that bad!"

"—Do you realize how badly you could've been if you hadn't come sooner? It could've gotten infected!" Bruce kept rambling as I face palmed.

I sighed heavily, glancing through my fingers. "Where's Keith?" I mumbled through my palm.

Luke crossed his arms.

"You don't know already?" Ava asked. "Your friend ran off as soon as he got bandaged up."

My eyes grew wide. "_What? _You let him _leave_?"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Of course not! He left on his own!"

Peter stared at my stained shirt. "Hey, Andy, I can, um, wash that out for you." He walked over to me, slightly embarrassed, as I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed to him.

"Thanks, Pete," I said, sliding off the counter I'd been sitting on.

I glanced at Danny. "So, Danster, where were you when I had a meet-and-greet with a big green bug?"

Danny tried for a smile. "I, um, was teaching karate to a few new supers."

I looked at him. "You're training newbies?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so the teached is becoming the teacher, eh?"

Danny grinned. "Yeah."

I sighed, pulling out my cell. "I'm gonna have to call Keith and make sure he's okay." I looked up. "Thanks, guys. Really."

Sam grinned, loping an arm around my shoulder. "No problem, man."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Really? Because I can think of plenty."

Sam shot her a glare. "Ava. You're ruining the moment."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

Sam grinned. "I think we need a group hug, guys," He said.

"No," I started, struggling to push him off.

The guys all crowded in, hugging me.

At least these guys hugged better than Nick.

**Okay, sorry, guys, short, I know.**

**Happy birthday to my aunt, Brandi. We miss you. A ton.**

**Sorry it's taken so long for an update. I've been busy. **

**Damn you, school!**

**Review, please.**


	12. Just Understand

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, dialing Keith's number for the fourth time. He wouldn't pick up.

I sighed, pressing it against my ear, as he said, "Yo. This is Keith. Leave your name and number—who am I kidding? Just freaking text me."

I rolled my eyes as the beep sounded.

"Look, dude, I've called you, I've texted you, I've even sent you an email even though I know you don't check it. I sound like one of those overly attached girlfriends. Just pick up your goddamn phone," I said, hanging up.

I slipped the phone in my pocket, irritated.

I'd left the Helicarrier hours ago. It was almost eleven at night and my eyes were starting to droop. I sighed, plopping onto my bed.

I really needed to sleep.

I had school tomorrow.

I rolled onto my side, staring at the dark blue wall. The room was super dark, since the only light was coming from my bathroom.

I stood up, walking into the bathroom, as I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed my toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

I closed the cabinet and ran the brush's bristles under a stream of water. I squeezed a small amount of white toothpaste onto the bristles, which I pressed against my teeth.

I spit into the sink, rinsing the brush as I opened the cabinet and tossed the brush and the tube of toothpaste back into it. I closed it, walking back into my room.

I glanced around my room, my eyes focusing on the briefcase lying on its side near the end of my bed. I picked it up by the handle and placed it quietly on my desk.

Knowing Nick, he was probably still awake, researching criminals and files downstairs in his office.

I unlocked the clamps on the briefcase, slowly pulling it open for dramatic effect.

I took the broken picture frame from the case and positioned it on the desk.

I pulled out multiple files and placed them on top of the lid of my laptop.

Then, I pulled out the journal.

It was dark brown leather, brandishing the emblem of the shield with the crossed scythes. I picked at the tab on the side that locked it shut, digging my fingernail underneath the leather tab, struggling to tear it open.

I placed it back down in defeat, staring at the photograph of my mother, father and myself. I stared at it, at the claw marks, at our smiling faces, when my eyes drifted to what looked like a white flap from the edge of the photograph.

I curiously picked up the frame, turning it around so I could inspect the back. I turned a few metal tabs away, which caused the fuzzy backing of the frame to drop out into my free hand.

I stared at the back of the photograph, at the scrawled handwriting, written with an ink pen.

_James Jameson, Samantha Jameson, and Andrew Jameson._

_**Before the accident.**_

My heart froze at the last words, written in a fine-tipped sharpie.

What did it mean—before the accident?

The only accident I knew about was the one of the fire in the lab.

My finger moved against the words, _smudging _them.

My eyes grew wide.

It if was from way back when I was a kid, why the hell was the ink still wet?

I flipped the frame over, staring at the claw indentions.

I swiveled my chair around, jumping onto my bed to grab my cell phone.

I sent Keith a text.

**To Keith**

**Watson, I might have a breakthrough on my hands.**

**Keith's POV:**

I tugged at my hoodie anomalously, fidgeting nervously.

Norman scowled at me, anger rippling across his face.

"You _broke _my Goblin Glider, the one I'd forbidden you from using?" Norman asked, disgust clear in his tone.

I stared at my ripped converse. "Um, yeah," I said lamely.

He glared at me, his folded hands growing white at the knuckles.

"Let me guess. You're hanging out with that _Fury _character, eh?" Norman snapped. "I never liked that Parker guy, either. Why do you kids always become friends with freaks with masks?"

I looked up, anger glinting in my eyes. "Want to know something? Andrew is actually a good kid. He gets good grades, doesn't stay out at night, and doesn't do bad things. But, bad things _find _him. Just because everyone can't be as perfect as _you, _Dad, doesn't mean everybody else isn't good enough."

Norman snapped back, "I'm not perfect. I never said I was. I want you and Harry to have a good life, is all."

I rolled my eyes. "Enough with all this bullshit! I don't want to hear it! You don't care about me! I get that. What? You care about Harry more than me, is that it? Is that why you never even _hinted _at the fact that we were related?"

Norman didn't say anything.

"Oh, and another thing," I started, "What's all this crap towards Andy? What'd he do? What's got you scared, old man? Must be big if you sent _three _of your best guys out onto the field, including _yourself. _Oh, but what happened? All three of you failed!" My voice grew shrill as I screamed at him. "You do realize you only _helped _him, right? Now he realizes something big must've gotten your attention! Not your smartest move, I take it? Andy knows something's up; Nick knows something's up; the team knows—hell, the entire agency knows!"

Norman still didn't say anything.

I glared at him. "Don't you realize when you're hurting your own _kids _with all of this I-hate-supers nonsense? They're helping us, whether you like it or not, and they've saved Harry and I plenty of times. Remember that next time you decide to plot against them."

I turned on my heel, content with my speech, as I shoved my way past the thick wooden doors. I walked down a hallway, stopping at an intersection between two halls and an elevator.

I pressed my hand against a high-tech scanner.

It blinked red then went back to its original neon-green grid.

I furrowed my eyebrows, tugging out my phone from my pocket.

I ignored Andy's multiple messages, sending a text to a few of my friends.

**To Randy, Alex and Crystal—**

**Guys, something's up with this faulty security system. Beam me up, Scotty. **

Randy sent me a text right away.

**From Randy**

**We have unexplained powers—we're not freaks. I'm not going to magically 'beam you up'. Just take the stairs.**

I rolled my eyes, about to reply in a sarcastic answer, when Alex texted me.

**From Alex**

**Did you rub sandpaper on your hands again, Keith? You know it takes forever to get 'prints back. Trust me. I couldn't eat or go to my room for weeks.**

Why did I hang out with sarcastic friends?

My phone buzzed again, this one from Crystal.

**From Crystal**

**The elevator doors should open in three, two, one. You're lucky you have someone here who actually has brains.**

The doors slid open, as I stepped inside, calling her from my cell phone.

"Thanks, Cryst. What would I do without you?" I asked.

I could imagine her rolling her eyes. "Keith. Did you get into another fight with Norman again?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Um, maybe. Why?"

Randy took the phone. "The new mission's got Crystal all depressed and irritable. Seems like her little boyfriend is our next target. That, or she's on her period."

There was a gasp and the sound of someone getting his ass kicked.

"Ow, ow, ow, _ow,_" Randy was crying out.

I instantly knew what had happened—Crystal had beat Randy's butt to a pulp.

And he was _crying _over it.

I couldn't help but chuckle slightly as the doors slid open again.

I walked past the doors, glancing around an empty hallway as I rushed to my roommates' room.

I knocked my knuckles on the door, saying into the phone, "Guys, open the door."

Alex opened the door, snickering, and jabbing a finger behind him.

I noticed Randy on the floor, holding tightly to his crotch.

I laughed. "Aw, Randall, does somebody need an icepack?"

He shot me a glare, his cheeks glistening in tears.

"Shut up, Keith, but yes, I would," Randy said, wincing as he struggled to sit up on his bent knees.

Crystal walked in, shooting Randy a glare as I opened the fridge in the kitchen of the apartment. I grabbed an icepack from the freezer, tossing it to Randy, who used his telekinesis to snag it out of the air.

Remember—we aren't freaks; just kids with supernatural abilities.

I turned to Alex. "So, how does the new mission link to Andy?"

"Whoa. Mystery-Boy has a name," Alex snickered, dodging a well-aimed punch from Crystal by grabbing her wrist and flinging her across the room, against the couch.

Alex glanced at me, brushing his palms together, as if rubbing off invisible dust. "I don't know, man, why don't you tell us? We know as much about this 'Andrew Fury' character as you do—" Alex lunged forward, shoving me hard against the countertop, so that it dug hard into my back, "—or are you hiding vital information?"

Alex's cool gray gaze held me still. Alex was one of the best spies out there, trained in every scenario possible. He knew multiple languages, even the dead ones. He knew almost a hundred ways to kill someone with a _spoon_. Alex was one of the most imitating guys I knew, with a nicely toned body, dark brown hair that curled along his ears, and those steely gray eyes that overanalyzed _every single thing._

My gaze caught Crystal's. She shook her head, slightly—something you would only notice if it was directed at you, and if you were paying attention.

I returned to Alex's gray eyes with an even steadier green glare.

"Why would I hide anything, Alexander?" I asked, watching him flinch at his full name.

Randy stood up, the icepack pressed to his manhood.

"Look," Randy started, "the only thing we know is this Andy guy is a major target. He means something to the boss. He must be powerful—nothing to underestimate."

Alex watched me carefully, his arm still pressing into my chest.

He looked closely for a reaction, sighing, as he took a step back.

From the corner of my eye, Crystal visibly relaxed.

Randy walked over, placing an arm over my shoulders.

"So, do I just put this ice pack back into the freezer or…?" Randy started, glancing at the ice pack to us.

**Not the best ending, I know, but I wanted to give you all a chapter!**

**Review, please.**


	13. The Flames Hide Secrets

**Andy's POV:**

I'd stayed up the entire night, staring at those three goddamn words—

_**Before the accident.**_

What accident?

The only thing I could thing of, was the fire in the lab or maybe a different accident, something that must've ended badly.

I sighed in frustration, leaning back in my swivel chair, closing my eyes.

I heard Nick shout from downstairs, "Andy! You're gonna be late!"

I grumbled underneath my breath, "Ah, fuck my life," as I dragged myself from the chair, grabbing a navy blue shirt with the emblem of Captain America's shield, along with a pair of jeans, some socks, and a black hoodie that was sprawled on the floor.

I changed out of my pajama shirt, throwing on the navy one. I slipped my pajama bottoms off, tossing them in the corner of my room, as I slid the jeans over my legs and boxers. I zipped them and buttoned them lazily, tugging socks over my bare feet.

I grabbed the hoodie, slipping my arms into the sleeves, zipping it halfway, as I ran to the bathroom and inspected my hair.

That's when I noticed something.

Something … _off._

I stared at the empty reflection on the mirror.

There was nothing there, besides the back white wall of the bathroom.

You could see my shirt and hoodie floating over invisible shoulders, but where my neck and head should've been… _there was air._

I panicked, grabbing my face with my hands, causing empty sleeves to rush to where my cheeks should've been. I could feel my fingers pitch and prod my face, but I couldn't see anything.

_Whatsoever._

I resisted the urge to scream for Nick.

I didn't want to bother him so early in the morning.

I turned around, looking for something to cover my head.

I grabbed a blue-and-gray Snapback, placing it onto what would've been my hair if I could see, and tossed my hoodie over my cap, grabbing my backpack and cell phone, before I opened the door of my bedroom and rushed downstairs.

Nick was at the granite island, as usual, a newspaper in hand as he drank from his mug. I swung around on the spiral staircase, so that Nick only saw my back.

"Bye, Nick, I'll see you after school!" I told him, trying to sound cheery even though I was scared as hell.

I didn't give Nick enough time to reply, as I opened the door and dashed down the street, not even bothering with the jetpack. I needed to figure out what was going on.

I pulled out my cell phone; dialing the first number I could think of.

Crystal's.

She picked up after the second ring.

"Hello? Andy?" She asked, seeming confused.

"Crystal," I said, my voice hushed. "I-I need to see you. Like, right now. Before school starts."

She seemed to think about it. "Okay. Where?"

"Um," I thought for a second. "How about the park near the school?"

"Okay," She said, "I'll be there in a bit."

"Thanks, Crystal," I said into the receiver. "By any chance, have you ever watched that movie, The Fantastic Four?"

The question seemed to startle her. "Um, yeah, I have. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," I said as I hung up.

I looked around, zipping my hoodie up farther, pointing my eyes down as I quickly walked to the park by the school.

…

Crystal was already sitting on a bench, her long blonde hair billowing around her in the breeze. She was wearing a purple jacket over a white V-neck, dark blue skinny jeans and sleek black boots.

I took a seat beside her, causing her to jump.

"Oh, hey, Andy," she said. "So… what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Um," I started, "I don't know how to say this, but—"

She smiled, trying to catch a glimpse of my face.

"Just say it," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Um, well," I started to say.

"Yes," She said immediately.

"Wait, um, what?" I asked.

"Yes, I'll go out with you," She said, smiling brightly.

Wait. Wait. Wait. _She thinks I was gonna ask her out?_

Well, of course I'd been thinking it. I liked her and had wanted to ask her out, but this was not a time for casualties—I wasn't even freaking _visible _here.

"Oh, uh, that's great! But, um, not want I was gonna _say_."

Did that sound as rude to me as it did to everyone else?

I heard her say, "Oh."

"Wait, um, no, I mean, I'd been _planning _on asking you out earlier but I never got around to it," I started to ramble, still not letting her look at my face, which is really hard to do when the person is sitting right next to you.

"What I mean is I'm having a crisis, and wanted to call you, but don't think I don't _want _to go out with you, because I really damn well do!" I rambled again.

She sighed, demanding, "Well, what is this _crisis_ that is so goddamn important?"

I slowly pulled down my hood, hearing her gasp.

"You… aren't _there_," Crystal said, astonished.

"Yeah, I know," I said, staring at her wide blue-green eyes.

"I knew you had the power to… But how…?" She asked, staring through me.

"Oh, that reminds me," I said. "You're a villain, aren't you?"

She began to fiddle with a loose thread in her jeans. "Not a _villain_. More like a…"

"Lemme guess. Bad cop, good cop?" I asked, perking an eyebrow, even though I knew she couldn't see it.

She looked up sharply. "Who gave you that analogy?"

"Who do you think?" I asked her.

She sighed. "I guess, in a way, that's what we are. _Bad cops, good cops. _We help different sides—the villains and the supers. It depends who we like at the moment, who we think will win. Stuff like that."

I nodded. "Was there ever… a guy named _Holt Anderson _in this little group?"

She stiffened. "Um. Yes. There was."

"Really." I said, not in the form in a question, more like a statement.

"And, what was his power, by any chance?" I asked.

She looked up, meeting my invisible gaze.

"He… specialized in pyroism, the power of fire, the birthright of the Dragon. It was major thing back then. Still is. Not many people have it," She said, carefully choosing her words.

"And, what exactly did this 'pyroism' do?" I asked. "Any special abilities?"

She thought for a minute. "Resistance to fire, bursting into flame occasionally, and there's also the personality change," She said, shrugging. "Pyroism, if you have it when you're born, acts like an incurable disease. You become a major hothead, literally, with the fireworks and steam flushing out of your ears."

"What do you mean, 'if you're born with it'?" I asked tentatively.

"There's another way you can receive pyroism. According to many scientists over the years that specialize in this sort of thing, you can get infected with pyroism, by working around it. A small amount and you'll be resistant to fire, might be able to light a match with a snap of your fingers. A heavy kind can cause a personality change, making you more of a creature than a person," She mused.

"Wait, back up, back up," I said, holding up my invisible hands. "A _creature_?"

"Yes," Crystal said, staring at my floating sleeves, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Could you, um, _specify_?" I asked.

She looked up at me, her eyebrows furrowing deeper.

I couldn't help but smile. The crinkle in her forehead was goddamn _adorable._

"We only knows of it as a creature," She said. "No one's been able to tell us what it looks like."

"Why is that?" I asked, a feeling of dread clutching my gut.

"Well, because they've all been killed. There have been no survivors."

My eyes flashed before me.

_I'd _seen it.

_I _was still alive.

_I'd _met it twice—the fire at my parents' desolate home, and in a flashback.

A fire in a different lab, where I was alone, flames roaring everywhere.

The cat on its side, hissing and snarling.

The figure that'd broken down the door to rescue me.

Somehow, everything just clicked.

The lab had to be in my old house or some workplace. The cat had once been a person, infected with pyroism, the stronger kind, and the figure…

My breath almost caught in my throat as I remembered.

The figure… was _Nick._

Nick had always said I'd been adopted, _rescued _from a mission he'd found me on.

Maybe that mission had been to stop a pyro-creature. Maybe that mission had somehow ended up being a _rescue _mission, on accident, because there was a kid trapped inside the lab at the time of the mission.

Maybe, just maybe, _two _figures walk into the room, not one, and maybe they were brothers and were newer recruits at the time. Maybe one of them was the older, cautious brother and maybe the other was the younger, reckless one. Maybe the younger brother saw the kid and knew right away what he had to do—save the kid, no matter what, so he dashed ahead into the flames to grab him, but the cat strode in front of him, snarling, as the kid laughed and pointed at the lion, his hands petting the cat's fur.

And, maybe, just _maybe_, the older brother pushed his younger brother out of the way, just as the cat's paw slashed, its claws extended, coming into contact with his left eye.

And, then, the younger brother, still in shock, rushed forward, scooping up the kid in his arms. Maybe he jumped over the cat and placed the kid near the open door, turning back to his brother and rushing forward to grab him, and dragged him bleeding brother out of the room, scooped up the kid back in his arms, and slammed the door closed, locking the snarling cat behind the doors.

And, then, maybe, it let out a mournful howl as it watched the two brothers, one bleeding, one silent in his shock, scoop the kid in their arms and walk them out of the building and down toward the street, where helicopters and ambulances awaited them.

And, maybe, just maybe, they set that kid down and asked for his name.

And maybe, he mumbled in a tiny voice, "Andy. My name's Andy Jameson."

Well, you know… _maybe._

**Whoa. Now we know how Nick got that eye patch…**

**I know Andy explains that night almost in third person, but it's because he's making it more mysterious, in a sense, remembering it in that way.**

**I've been slacking horribly on the Andy/Crystal romance. I'm so sorry! But, you get some here (sorta), and hopefully, Andy will finally go on a damn date with her.**

**Thanks for all the kind reviews! You guys are the best!**

**I explained more on the fire power (finally) and the next chapter will most likely be when Andy figures out how to snap out of being invisible.**

**Another thing—I recently forced my friend, Lexi, to watch The Fantastic Four with me. I knew I'd seen it before—I'd watched the second one before the first… Of course, but it was a great movie, which made me realize if Andy goes invisible… It shouldn't affect his clothes. So, as of now, when he goes invisible, it doesn't usually affect his clothes unless he concentrates hard enough, and even then it's rare.**

**Glad we got that settled. **

**Please review!**


	14. Fire Will Catch

**I'm watching the newest Ultimate Spiderman… Let me just say—where the _heck _is Peter's team when he needs them? Seriously!**

**I was watching the Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes and just realized Hawkeye has blonde hair… Excuse me while I fangirl. _Damn._**

**Oh my god, HANK'S HOT, TOO! OH MY GOD! WHERE THE HELL WAS I WHEN ALL THESE HOT GUYS (even if they're animated…) DECIDED TO SHOW UP!?**

Crystal inspected me, worriedly.

"Andy? Andy?" She waved her hand in front of where she suspected my eyes were, but instead ended up slapping me across the face.

"Ow!" I yelped, my hand darting to my face to rub my cheek, which was currently radiating pain.

She winced. "Sorry."

I waved an invisible hand at her. "No, it's fine, you can't see me."

She watched me closely, still trying to figure out how the hell I was invisible, despite the floating clothes.

"Did you ask me about the Fantastic Four because you were invisible?" She asked, realizing right away.

I nodded; hoping the bob of the hat would help her know I was actually nodding.

She thought for a second, quickly saying, "Andy, how do you usually go invisible?"

"I close my eyes and think about being invisible," I told her, shrugging. "I imagine myself invisible and suddenly I am. Why?"

"Think about being visible," She said. "Close your eyes and think about being visible."

I closed my eyes, ridding away distractions, one by one, willing myself to think one thing—_be seen._

I kept my eyes shut. "Did it work?"

I could almost feel her smile. "Yeah, it did."

I opened my eyes, looking down to see hands poking out of my sleeves. My hands went to my face as I felt my hair, pulling it ever so slightly so that I could see the tips of my brown hair with my fingers.

I grinned, jumping up from the bench.

I turned to Crystal, enveloping her in a hug as I shouted, "You're a miracle worker, Crystal!" I kissed her on the cheek, overenthusiastic with glee.

She blushed slightly, smiling widely. "I'm glad I could help."

I thought back to what we'd talked about before.

"Crystal, about what we were talking about earlier," I said, scratching the back of my neck and smiling at her. "Maybe we could go to dinner sometime?"

The smile on her face sent my stomach into a frenzy of butterflies.

"I'd love to!" She said, grinning, as she came close and kissed my cheek in return.

I laughed really stupidly. "Alrighty," I said, smiling, as she grabbed my hand, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

"Forgetting something?" She asked, clucking her tongue.

"Um," I said.

She rolled her eyes, still smiling, as she replied, "School."

"Oh! Yeah! Right," I said, sighing disappointedly. "_School_."

She smiled, walking forward, dragging me on our way to the school.

But, I couldn't help but grin, because, honestly, who could frown when a girl that beautiful was holding your hand?

…

In short, school was hell.

I could barely pay attention with my mind racing.

Sam was sitting beside me in science class, trying to balance his pencil under his nose, where the wood balanced on his puckered lips.

I rolled my eyes. He looked like a girl updating her Facebook profile picture.

I nudged him, knocking him off balance, causing his pencil to clatter to the floor. He whipped his head around, glaring at me angrily, as he ducked down under the desk to grab his pencil.

I turned my attention back to the teacher.

She was a substitute for Mr. Jones, which I was incredibly happy for.

She was younger than most substitutes, with long blonde hair down to her shoulders. She wore a much-too-short dress for a teacher of her precise and heels that looked like torture to walk in.

Sam had been gawking since she entered the room, but granted, he thought every girl was hot. Sam had been staring at her boobs half the period, and honestly, you could tell that was the only reason he paid half attention.

I was just glad it wasn't Mr. Jones. He hated my guts and I hated his.

_I wonder if Coulsan will let me switch classes, _I thought to myself, tapping the end of my pencil against the tabletop.

The teacher, who's name was Ms. Corelli, played a video from her laptop, which came up on the SMART board.

I noticed with bitterness that it was one of the news channels, showing a sneering John Jonah Jameson Jr., with his black flattop haircut, mixed with specks of gray hair. His mustache was curled for the cameras. The fact that his cigar wasn't in his mouth surprised me greatly. He could've cared less if high schoolers or younger kids were watching the news—he would've lit that cigar right in front of the cameras if they'd allow it and if the smoke wouldn't set off the alarms.

Peter sighed as Jameson started out, like he always did, "Spiderman's causing more problems, as always, _but_, more importantly, let's talk about—"

I zoned out the second Jameson pretended to care about politics and the world's problems, ending everything with 'for the children!' like he was trying to score big points at a beauty pageant.

I thought back to the course of events, in just a week.

I'd been almost killed—what, twice now?—almost been arrested, gotten a date with a girl who could kill me in about twenty different ways, gone invisible and had almost not come back, and had almost figured out what had happened to my parents.

There were way too many almost's.

I folded my hands, noticing something odd.

_Again._

My hands were… _transparent._

I could see my veins clearly, could see the tan tint of my skin, but could see the outline of bones and major arteries and hairline capillaries and the large veins that snaked through my forearms and hands.

Oh, and instead of blue veins… _they were reddish orange._

In all my years in school, I knew for a fact your veins were supposed to be blue, and the second you got a cut, the oxygen in the air would hit the vein, counteracting with the rust, turning to red.

So, why in _hell _were my veins fucking _orange?!_

I pulled up my sleeves quickly, looking around, panicked.

Why was all this weird stuff happening?!

Sam glanced at me, muttering under his breath, "Bro, you okay? You don't look so good."

"I don't feel so hot either," I told him, which was obviously a lie.

I was burning up. My forehead was on fire, causing a pain behind my eyes. I winced, placing my hand on my forehead.

Sam looked at me warily. "Dude, I think you need to head to the nurse."

I shook my head.

Sam raised his hand, waving it frantically.

Ms. Corelli looked up, standing from her desk and walking to our table.

"Yes, Mr. Alexander?" Ms. Corelli asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Sam jabbed a finger at me, as I grabbed my head with both hands.

"Andy's, like, spazzing out. I think he's gonna puke or something," Sam said, nudging me. "Can I take him to the nurse—because I'm such a gentleman?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

_Okay, ew, I think I'm gonna puke if this holds up, _I thought, grimacing at his petty display of flirting with a _teacher_.

She pursed her lips, glancing at me. "Sure, go ahead," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Sam turned around, grabbing my arm and dragging me out of the room, walking me down the hall. He was mostly trying to keep me from _falling down. _The room was spinning and my head was throbbing in pain.

Sam had a his grip on my forearm, holding most of my weight.

"Andy, do _not, _and I repeat—_do not_—get sick on my new shoes," Sam told me sternly.

I glared at him. "Oh, sorry, Sam, because I can totally control where I get sick at."

He nodded. "Glad we understand each other."

We were almost to the nurse's office when I started huffing, as if I'd run five blocks, at full speed. I stopped, panting, my hands on my knees.

Sam freaked out. He started unzipping my jacket.

"No!" I shouted, trying to push him away.

"What is the big deal!" Sam shouted indignantly, struggling to tug the hoodie from my body. "It's just a damn hoodie, Andy! Give it to me!"

He ripped it clean off, noticing my arms.

Sam's jaw dropped. "What—How—Huh?"

I spread me hands. "I don't know! That's the thing!"

My hands suddenly burned.

Sam's eyes widened. "What—the—hell!" He screamed, just before fire blasted out of my outstretched palms.

Sam hit the deck, slamming against the tough carpet, which probably felt like hitting water, in a belly flop, which was basically like smacking onto dried concrete.

The fire from my hands exploded against the brick wall we'd been facing.

I'd blasted a hole through the wall, where a math class craned their necks to stare at me with bewildered expressions. I smiled weakly and waved, which I _really _shouldn't have done, because the second my hand moved, a beam of white-hot plasma shot from my hand to catch fire on the navy blue carpet, igniting and spreading quickly.

Well, shit.

**Andy's got a way with words, huh?**

**I felt like Andy was spending way too much time with Keith, so I wanted to show Andy and Sam's friendship more, by Sam wanting to help him—and kinda maybe flirt with the teacher…**

**But, anyway, I hope you like it.**

**Review, please!**


	15. Blame Game In The Flames

The school building was enveloped in chaos just as quickly as it was enveloped in flames.

I was trying to stop, I really was—but when you're on freaking fire, you go into panic hard-drive mode. I kept thinking _stop, drop and roll _… but I don't think that works when you can't pat out the flames—because you _are _the flames.

My jeans had caught fire a long time ago. My arms were glowing, as if my body had transformed from transparent to bubbling magma in seconds.

I slowly lifted one of my hands to my head, dreading what was up there.

My heart sank when I felt the heat of where my hair should've been. Flames licked my palm, so hot it reminded me of ice… if that makes sense.

My hair was on fire.

_Great_, I thought. _Hopefully it's not permanent. That would suck._

I looked around, trying to see where Sam had gone through the blaze.

"Sam!" I shouted. "_Sam!_"

Sam ran forward, hacking into his arm, blinking his eyes rapidly.

I walked forward. "Sam, why the hell are you still in here?"

He gave me a weak smile. "I don't leave friends behind."

I smiled, about to put a hand on his shoulder to push him out of the room.

He jumped back suddenly. "Dude, watch where you point those things!"

I backed my hand away, glancing at it and noticing the glowing sphere of plasma in my palm, hovering over the bubbling magma, which was my skin.

I nodded. "Sorry. I forgot."

Sam looked at me. "Can you smother your flames so we can get out of here without starting a frenzy?"

I glanced down at my body, which was swelling with light and singeing the air with intense heat. I rubbed the back of my neck. "Um, well, _about _that…" I started.

Sam's palm collided with his forehead. "You don't know how?"

I glared at him. "You try turning into a freaking human torch!"

Sam thought for a moment, an idea suddenly coming to his head as his eyes glowed brighter, as if someone had flicked the switch of the light bulb in his mind. "Is there an extinguisher in here?"

My eyes widened. "No, no, _no_. No extinguisher. Nuh uh."

Sam glared at me. "Andy. It's the only idea I've got."

I grumbled under my breath, crossing my smoking arms as Sam looked around feverishly.

"Look," I said, realizing I needed to get him out of here, "Why don't I go figure out my situation myself? I'll go into Home EC and nab an extinguisher, maybe a fire blanket."

Sam narrowed his eyes skeptically. "I don't know…"

"C'mon, Sam," I practically pleaded.

If Sam got hurt because of my damn powers… I don't know what I'd do.

Sam glanced at me, sighing. "Call me when you get into Home EC. I'll be with the gang by then, and we should be able to walk you through what to do."

I nodded. "Okay. Now, get outta here."

Sam nodded, about to walk away, before he stopped short.

"Andy."

I looked up. "Yeah?"

"Just… Be careful, okay?" Sam said, looking up to stare at me.

I watched the orange glow of the fire gleam over his face and reflect the gel in his shiny black hair.

"I'll try my best," I told him, sending him a curt nod to send him on his way out of the building.

I turned around, inspecting the flames that were now _everywhere_—lapping up the walls, licking through melted glass, scorching once ugly navy carpet which was now a horrid charred brown.

I took a deep breath, sucking in a small amount of what I hoped was oxygen, ducking my head and running head-long into a curtain of white-hot flames.

…

The Home EC room hadn't been touched with fire until _I _walked in.

I felt absolutely terrible as I ripped the door off its hinges.

I felt even worse the moment my shoe slapped against the linoleum flooring, and all the ovens' dials flicked to their highest setting, erupting into flames.

My eyes grew wide. "No! No! Don't! Turn off! Shit, shit, shit!"

In response, each oven door flew open, flames erupting from them as if they were spiky orange tongues from the jagged mouth, which in this case, was the glowering oven.

I searched the room for the shiny red canister of the fire extinguisher.

I spotted it, rushing toward it, and quickly glancing over the instructions.

I pulled the plastic tab, aiming the nasal away from me and toward the base of the first oven, where the flames were licking upward. I squeezed the handle tightly, which caused a bunch of white fluffy stuff to erupt around the oven.

I started panicking at all the flames, so I did the logical thing—I started waving the extinguisher back and forth, around the entire room, dousing it in the thick white foam.

It didn't stop me from burning, though.

I growled under my breath, angrily glaring at the fire coming off my hands.

"This is _your _fault," I spat at the flames dancing through my fingers. "It's _your _fault that I burned my school down. It's _your _fault that I'm most likely getting expelled. It's. All. Your. Fucking. Fault."

At that moment, I didn't really know who I was blaming.

Nick, maybe, for keeping so much from me.

Coulsan, too, for being such a pain on making me do well in school.

My parents—who gave them permission to go off and … _disappear _when I needed them most?

Oh, and don't forget _myself. _This was my fault. I needed to respect that this whole fire was my doing, and my doing only.

I sighed, staring at my hands and at the still flickering flames.

I stood, finding a fire blanket over a cabinet. I pulled it down, wrapping the thick white blanket over my shoulders, ignoring the fact the thing weighed more than I did, and began to walk back out of Home EC.

I looked around at the still growing flames, feeling ashamed once again.

I'd done this.

I'd started it.

I vowed that I would take full responsibility for this act of arson, as it would seem to everyone else in the school, the city, and the world.

I lowered my head, turning a corner.

My head shot up as I heard an ear-jarring _crack!_

A black shadow strode forward through the flames.

I didn't have time to move, to think, to take another breath of air and smoke.

A gun's nose was aimed at my chest.

I watched the gun pulse with strange green and blue light as the shadow walked through the orange backdrop of flames. A pale yellow suited guy cocked the strange pistol at me, asking gruffly, "Did you start this fire, kid?"

I was about to lie, pretend I hadn't just vowed to take full responsibility, and walk away out of the building to the fire trucks and ambulances and reporters.

But, then I thought of the gang.

Peter would've taken responsibility for this. Luke wouldn't have hesitated. Sam would've had a different approach. Ava wouldn't even be in this type of situation. Danny would've been wise enough not to do something as stupid as this.

I looked over his suit, noticing the gray logo of Oscorp Industries.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oscorp Industries, huh—?"

The guy rushed forward, slamming me hard into a wall. The air was quickly sucked from my lungs, causing the flames of my hair to flicker out and drop back into my regular brown hairstyle.

I recognized the golden brown eyes glinting behind the reflective shield over his eyes.

The nose of the gun dug into my hip promptly, his other hand currently crushing my windpipe under his steel grip.

"What—do—you—want?" I choked between gasps.

His golden eyes narrowed as he chuckled. "I don't want anything, young flame. But… someone else wants you."

I focused on his golden brown eyes, waiting for him to go farther into the subject.

"He wants your power… Your DNA," The man said, chuckling slightly. "Not many have your kind of power, you know. Pyroism is a gift. Especially when it's manmade."

His eyes flicked to my confused expression.

"Nobody told you?" He didn't seem so surprised. "Nobody told you that your own father turned you into a science experiment for his bionics? That you were a test subject gone wrong? That you and me—we're the same?"

"I'm not like you," I whispered, suddenly lightheaded, my eyes on the verge of rolling into the back of my head.

"No, kid, you are. You're exactly like me. You're Andrew Jameson, son of my best friend, James. Oh, and another shocker—James isn't dead. Neither is Sam. They just didn't want any shit-ass son holding them back from everything they could've been doing," He spat at me.

I glared at him, fighting the urge to pass out from the lack of oxygen.

"And, another thing," He snarled. "You're a worthless piece of—"

Let's just say, he didn't get to finish his sentence.

Because, my awesome ninja father appeared in the nick of time, hence his first name, as he twirled a smoking pistol in his hand, a huge group of agents rushing in behind him.

I smirked at the limp body near my feet.

He wasn't dead, just unconscious, but that was enough for me.

I looked up and smiled at Nick.

Nick grinned back, walking over and slapping a hand on my shoulder.

"Did you really do all this?" Nick asked, the smile fading as he gestured to the still raging flames.

I quickly stared at my shoes, which were a mess of melted rubber and canvas. "Yeah. I'm so sorry, Nick—"

He laughed, which startled me enough to look up and stare at him, wide-eyed.

"You're… not blowing a gasket, yelling at me?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. You've been through a lot. The team told me what happened—more like _Sam_ told me what happened."

I smiled. "Really? He did?"

Nick nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Now, don't worry about this whole fire mess. I'll stress over it enough. I want you to get some medical attention, _now._" His voice turned stern again.

I shook my head, chuckling slightly.

Carefree was _so_ not Nick's forte.

I grinned at him. "Aye, aye, Captain Fury!"

He rolled his eye, turning to some agents and instructing them to put out the fires and to do something about the dude on the ground.

I grinned, putting my hands into my pockets as I walked over to a few of the agents who specialized in the medical field.

Maybe I'd be okay with calling Nick 'Dad' from now on.

He was a better dad than mine seemed to be.

I'd just have to teach Nick to let loose a little.

**Jesus! Eight pages! Whoa!**

**You are all lucky. Eight frickin' pages? That's a personal best!**

**The reviews piled in pretty quickly after my last update, which was amazing. I honestly love quick feedback.**

**Now we know how Andy got his powers… And hopefully you guys know who the guy in the suit is, from my few hints. **

**Review, please!**


	16. Flame On

Coulsan wasn't exactly _happy _about me destroying half the school building.

S.H.I.E.L.D had to do a memory swipe of the students besides me and the team, but I had a feeling Crystal somehow remembered by the way she'd compliment on how 'hot' I was, and giggle like it was a clever joke, which in retrospect, it was.

Sam and the rest of the team seemed really freaked out over my whole burst-into-flame thing, which bugged me, because well… have they _seen _the Fantastic Four? Johnny had pyroism, from being in space and getting hit from the wave.

Did anyone think Johnny was a freak?

No.

Why?

Because he was a cocky bastard who craved attention like a pregnant woman craved food. He thought he was sexy and all the woman couldn't resist a guy in a fit-fitting costume.

I sighed, listening to Tony mutter into my earpiece, "Okay, Andy, fire it up."

In response, I tightened my hands into fists, closing my eyes and feeling the air around me grow about 20 degrees hotter, than 40, 60, and quickly 100.

I felt my hair erupt into white-hot flames, my skin start to bubble like earthen magma, my entire body start to burn my clothes to … well, ash.

That was the _defect _of pyroism. There wasn't a special exception for clothes.

There never was, huh?

I had pyroism, invisibility—for both I had to take my clothes off.

Brilliant.

I was going to have to preorder some costumes through Mr. Fantastic.

I felt heat spiral up through my chest, through my arms, swooshing up hot air and flipping the flames of my hair upward. Flames licked the last remnants of my clothes, eating up the cloth material and leaving it as chalky ash, which fell to the floor of the fire-resistant clear tube I was standing in.

I clapped my hands together, causing more heat and a gush of fiery air, throwing the flames into a spiral around me, clouding my vision with flashes of yellow, orange and red.

My hands hummed with yellow light, dotted with webs of orange, kinda like the web-like things on the bottom of a pool, casting the appearance of diamonds, all interconnected.

I felt my body reach an even higher intensity of heat as I clapped my hands harder, faster. The impact sent heat waves to smack against the sides of the tube, which caused a smile to cast over my lips.

I caused the heat to go hotter, completely ignoring the boundaries.

I laughed, carefree, as I smelt the scent of melting plastic.

Tony's voice cried, "Andy! Andy! _Stop!_"

I laughed again, clapping faster, my mind going a mile a minute.

That's when I realized I wasn't clapping anymore.

I was running. Running might not even be the correct word.

I was … _flying._

I was practically a fireball, swinging around the tube, back and forth, back and forth.

I heard something like _floosh_ and my eyes darted to where two spigots in the tube squirted some white foam. Foam rained down like a thick wet blanket, dampening my flames so that I collapsed to the floor of the tube, landing on my bare chest.

"Ow," I moaned, my hands darting for my smashed knee, which had smacked into the floor. I pressed my fingers to it, from both sides, rubbing it with some foam.

I looked down. I was covered in the fluffy stuff from head to toe, literally. It probably looked like I'd gotten on the bad side of the Abdominal Snowman (who, may or may not, be real. Sorry, confidential S.H.I.E.L.D business.)

I sat up, scowling at Tony from my place in the middle of a half-melted tube full of fluffy white foam. Tony stood beside Dr. Banner, when suddenly I realized the people standing _behind _them.

Now, I've met plenty of major superheroes.

I mean, I'm best friends with Spiderman, Iron Fist, Nova, Power Man and White Tiger, to name a few. I've gotten along with the Avengers, who (ego-alert) seemed to have taken quite a liking to me.

But, never in my life but now, had I met the Fantastic Four.

Reed Richards, aka Mr. Fantastic, watched me intently, his right grayish-black eyebrow perked slightly over his bright blue eye.

I suddenly became self-conscious, standing up nervously and fidgeting under his gaze.

Sue Storm stood to the side of Reed, a slight smile on her lips. Her blonde bob reached her shoulders, curling inward at the ends. Her brilliant blue eyes gleamed with amusement, which only caused me to fidget even more.

Sue's younger brother, Johnny Storm, stared at me, his eyes widened. His mouth was slightly agape as he took me in. He ran his palm over his short dark brown hair, muttering something that I recognized as, "He's just a _kid._"

Yeah, I've been taught to read mouths. Don't judge me. It's useful.

Johnny turned to Sue, his eyebrows furrowing as he snapped quietly, "What the fuck is this shit?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Well, it's _you_, Johnny. Remember that. You acted the same exact way when you first discovered your powers. You went far beyond the boundaries."

I decided to ignore the rest of their conversation as they started to bicker at each other.

My eyes caught the hulking figure of Ben Grimm, labeled 'Thing' by the genius that is Johnny Storm. Ben's massive shoulders got stuck in the doorframe he was trying to squeeze through. He grunted, trying to maneuver himself through the door, even though he was almost two feet taller than it. He ended up getting frustrated and breaking the wooden doorframe, which caused his eyes to flicker between the five people in front of him. He stepped inside, placing the broken wood back into place. He gave it the slightest tap with his pinky, which was the size of a banana.

Ben turned to stare out and noticed me, standing awkwardly in a pool of white foam. Streaks of bare skin shone through the foam, and I tried my best not to let the foam leave from… you know.

Tony spoke into a speaker, tapping it.

"Alright, Andy. We'll do another test tomorrow. Come on up."

I raised an eyebrow, looking down.

"Tony! Could you spare a towel?" I shouted.

In response, Reed stretched down with a towel under his arm.

I stared at the towel in his outstretched hand.

"Uh… Thanks," I said, grabbing it with one hand before I began to wipe my chest down, wrapping the towel around my waist. I wiped my hands over my face and rubbed my foamy hands on the towel as I began to walk up the metal stairs.

Everyone's attention darted to me.

I scratched the back of my neck, trying to play it cool.

"Um, hey," I said.

Reed and Sue smiled. Ben gave me a slight nod and Johnny gave me a childish scowl as he crossed his arms.

In reality, I was having a total fanboy attack. My brain was screaming at me and my chest was squeezing tightly as I tried not to start squealing.

Tony looked at me, clearly scared for my health.

"Andy," He started, "are you alright?"

I gave a strangled nervous laugh. "Totally! W-why wouldn't I be?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, turning his attention away from a computer screen.

"Really, because you look like you're about to pee yourself," Bruce quirked, turning back to the screen as I blushed.

Tony leaned against the counter, which was full of switches, keyboards, beakers, and tons and tons of papers. Tony pressed his hands on a pile of files, as he said coolly, "We invited the Fantastic Four for some help on your condition."

I stiffened.

They said it like I was a contagious disease.

I narrowed my eyes. "Condition?"

Tony nodded. "The pyroism. Johnny has a case of it, also." Tony waved a hand behind him to Johnny, who had straightened and now shot me a smile that would make millions of girls swoon.

Believe me, I almost did.

Reed stretched his forearm to an impossible length, his fingers pointed toward me, as he smiled, saying, "Hey, Andy. We've heard a lot about you. I'm Reed—"

"—Richards. I'm a big fan," I said, grinning and shaking his hand.

He nodded approvingly, having his hand stretch back to normal length.

Sue smiled as she walked forward, holding out a hand. "I'm Sue."

I shook her hand quickly, trying hard not to blush too crazily.

Johnny rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as Sue took a step beside Reed.

Ben sulked forward, outstretching his pinky.

I grinned and shook it, smiling and saying, "I'm Andy. Nice to meet you, Ben."

A smile cracked across his face. "Pleasure's all mine," Ben said, his voice deep and ragged, sorta like the sound the car tires make when they rumble over a broken gravel road.

Honestly, I thought it was insanely cool.

Sue elbowed Johnny in the ribs, shooting him a look.

Johnny sighed, walking forward to stand in front of me.

He looked at me, unimpressed, as he folded his arms in front of him for the umpteenth time. The feeling of his eyes staring me down made me feel small, weak, and vulnerable.

Or maybe, that was just because I was standing there, naked, except for the towel wrapped around my waist.

Johnny looked me over. "So, you're Andrew Fury?"

I met his startling blue gaze as I said, "Yeah. I am."

He nodded, looking me up and down. "And, you really destroyed your high school?"

I shot Tony a glare, which he simply shrugged at.

I sighed. "Yeah…" I started uncertainly.

Johnny clapped a hand on my bare back; slapping the skin and making me wince in surprise. He laughed. "Dude, that's awesome! I always _hated _school! Man, if I had known I could've blown up my own school so I wouldn't have to take this exam I flunked in ninth grade—"

Sue appeared beside Johnny, hitting him sharply on the shoulder.

"Don't give the kid ideas, Johnny," She scolded.

Johnny shrugged, clapping a hand onto my shoulder, smiling warmly.

Seriously—his smile was radiating heat and blinded me enough that I had to hold a hand in front my eyes.

Johnny grinned, glancing around the room, an idea sparking in his mind.

"Andy," He started, "I have a proposition for you."

I raised an eyebrow warily.

"How about a fire-on-fire battle? Sound cool?" He asked.

I shrugged.

"Okay," Johnny grinned. "Flame on."

**Finally! The Fantastic Four has entered the storyline!**

**Andy is such a fanboy…**

**Get ready for a friendly battle between Andy and Johnny in the next chapter… things are about to get a few degrees hotter. Might as well rekindle the fire.**

**Hahahahahaha, sorry, are those puns too much for you?**

**If they are… you better get out of the kitchen!**

**-currenly zoning off and wondering if the puns about made any sense, and if they don't, oh well-**

**Leave a review!**


	17. Supernova

Fire was everywhere—fireballs bouncing and ricocheting off walls, plasma splashed on the fireproof flooring, oranges and yellows and reds swirling my vision, the smoke heavy and black near the ceiling.

Johnny was a pro at the fire arts.

He morphed into tons of shapes—a fireball, a fiery wall of heat, and his favorite, the human torch. He didn't care that I had no experience in the whole morphing concept—he left me in the dust, or in this case, the smoke.

Johnny's taunts had gotten a lot fiercer as he got more into the heat of our fire battle. He would mock my powers, my confidence, and my pride. I blew it off, shrugging, which seemed to surprise him—a lot.

He swirled around, glowing brightly, suddenly rushing close enough that I could smell the smoke off his hair.

His teeth blazed white as his eyes glowed like hot coals.

"You know, Andy," He said, "I always thought you were a little flame. But, in reality, you're just the slightest flicker—barely there."

I chuckled, watching his face flicker with uncertainty.

"Yeah, you're right, Johnny. I'm invisible," I said, closing my eyes and imagining myself as just what he thought I was—invisible.

I heard him gasp. "Wait. Where—What—"

I opened my eyes, smirking, as I leapt forward, slamming him hard against the wall, watching him gasp in surprise.

His eyes narrowed as air flooded his lungs. "Not fair, man! This is supposed to be just a fire fight!"

"Wanna know what's not fair? Being ganged up on a guy with more experience than you," I told him.

Johnny nodded, shrugging, as he suddenly burst into flame, smirking as he watched flames lick around the outline of my hand.

He smirked even more smugly as he began to melt through my fingers, oozing like red-hot syrup down the wall, through my fingers and onto the floor.

He materialized before I had the chance to back up.

He shot a few balls of lava at me, which coated my body in fiery ooze.

My eyes shot up as Johnny came rushing forward, his hands outstretched to grab me. I yelped, erupting into fire, watching him get thrown across the room.

He stood up again, morphing into a fireball and swinging forward to swirl around me, an orange streak arcing behind him.

I rolled my eyes, sticking a hand out and yanking him out of the air.

Johnny laughed, looking me over.

I realized I was visible again.

"You know, Andy, it's been a pleasure," Johnny laughed, "but I have to end this. You're a fighter, you really are, but I have to keep my dignity and you're just a kid."

I laughed back. "Oh, really?"

He nodded. "Sorry. No hard feelings," and with that he pressed his hand

hard against my bare chest and let energy soar through his palm and hit me full in the chest with a blast of blistering heat.

A lot of weird things happen to me, as you've probably noticed.

But, what happened next, scared the shit out of Johnny and me both.

The second the heat touched my chest, instead of burning or stinging, it felt _good. Really good. _Like, _oh-my-god-do-it-some-more _good. I don't know how to explain it, but one word comes to mind—bliss. Pleasure.

I wanted more of it. I wanted more of the heat, the energy.

It … felt amazing.

In that moment, I don't know what really happened. I was too busy floating in bliss, running around on fluffy clouds and drinking from a flowing chocolate river and laughing and falling back onto the clouds carelessly.

In a second, the bliss turned into a nightmare.

Instead of bouncing off the clouds, I fell through them. I was free falling, screaming as air ran its icy fingers through my hair, gripping my body like it might try to escape.

My eyes were screwed shut as I screamed my throat raw.

What was happening? This was supposed to feel good! This was bliss!

So… why did it suddenly feel horrible?

My vision was cloudy with dark gray smoke. I couldn't see. I couldn't see.

_I couldn't see anything but dark gray smoke._

I was blind. I couldn't see. I couldn't see.

But, I could hear. I could hear everything.

Johnny was shouting. So were Tony, and Bruce, and the rest of the Fantastic Four.

I could feel heat all around me, growing in intensity. I felt powerful but felt terrible, as well. My throat burned and I could taste blood. My nose was clogged with smoke fumes and the smell of a bunch of melting substances. I could numbly hear and feel the heat coming off miniature explosions.

The power released my body and I felt my shoulders slump.

My vision grew back in colorful blotches.

I surveyed the lab. The walls, which _had _been fireproof, were golden brown and overly crispy. The flooring was a melted pool of some shiny white liquid, which reminded me of wet cornstarch or slimy Elmer's glue that someone had squirted everywhere.

I looked around, seeing Johnny staring at me, his back pressed against the crispy wall, his eyes bewildered. He shook his head, his expression wavering into a more composed look.

"That was, uh, a … _challenge_," Johnny said, his voice shaken and slightly shrill as he started to break into a nervous laugh. "Y-you planned that didn't you, kid? Trying to scare me by turning into some sort of solar supernova? I'll admit, it… it was _cool_, but, you know, don't do it again, kid, it's not safe… for me or anyone else's health…"

I stood there, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Johnny flat-out burst into laughter. "Oh, you're killing me, kid," He said, wiping a few real tears away with his pointer finger, "You really are! Man, you should be a comedian or an actor or something!"

I stood there, still confused.

Tony thumped the microphone once, twice.

He slipped his head off from under the desk he had earlier leaned against.

"Everyone okay?" He asked, his voice sketchy and strained.

A few people groaned in response.

I watched Ben help lift a table off of Bruce. Reed helped Sue up.

I realized I was staring at them through a hole burned through the center of a huge wall of melted protective glass. Orange singed the rim of the hole, burning it wider than before.

I stood in shock.

Had I done all of that?

I _really _needed to stop asking myself rhetorical questions.

**(AN: I wanted to leave it here, but what the heck, let's just keep going.)  
**

A biting feeling in my gut tightened as I kept surveying the entire monstrosity of a room.

My mind started to nag at me that this was again, _all my fault_, but I locked the voice up behind an iron door with a few hundred padlocks and heavy chains.

Johnny was still laughing.

Everyone on the top deck was watching me, intently yet warily, as if I were a test subject that might go rouge and start biting people at any moment.

I stood there, unclenching my fists that I hadn't even known I'd been clenching. I watched smoke flood from in between my fingers as I held them up near my face and inspected them.

In the center of each palm, there was a glowing sphere of light pulsing in yellow and orange light. I brought them closer to my face, inspecting the red circles.

They looked like scars.

Dark red scars engraved about a centimeter into my skin, shining like 2D miniature suns.

I rubbed my palms together, causing fire to burst in my hands.

Tony tapped his microphone again. "Uh. Andy. You okay?"

I looked up, watching Reed and Bruce begin to whisper to one another, glancing at me skeptically.

"I'm not a damn science experiment," I reminded myself, my eyes narrowing as Reed and Bruce stopped further whispering once they felt my gaze burning through them.

Johnny's laughter had finally ceased.

I felt tons of pairs of eyes focused on me as I smoldered my flames on my hands by closing them back into fists.

I sighed deeply, looking up and noticing Nick standing beside Tony.

It really sucked having a pirate-ninja-spy as your father.

He appeared everywhere with no warning. Whatsoever.

Nick stiffly walked forward and examined the glowing hole in the center of the protective glass. His scowl deepened as he peered through the hole and saw me; standing in the center of a melted lab, fire glowing from my hands.

"This … looks bad," I said, shifting nervously on my feet.

His brown eye hardened as he nodded. "Just a bit."

**Wow, I added like, another page from where I wanted to end off. **

**I finally got my Mark of Athena book, and guys, let me tell you, it's amazing and I've realized Rick and I have the same sort of aspect on things… like the possessing and the reborn heroes… **

**I'm watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Yeah. It's funny. I'm kinda confused but, still, it's some funny chiz. **

**Don't judge me. Chiz is a funny-ass word and I am going to say it.**

**Chiz, chiz, CHIZ.**


	18. The Journal Holds The Truth

I was dropped off via Helicarrier at the house.

They dropped a rope ladder down and I had to shimmy down it.

I might be fitter than most guys, but I am not at the _peak _of physical fitness. I mean, look at Peter. Just because he has all those cool spider senses and powers and stuff, doesn't mean he _looks _the part.

So, as I was shimmying down, I missed a rung, and began to fall.

I landed on the roof of my house.

I glared at the Helicarrier as the agents pulled the rope up and waved.

The pain in my shoulder from landing on the roof hurt like a mother, but I just gritted my teeth and crawled to my window, opened it and struggled to get through the window while holding my shoulder tightly.

I hopped down form the windowsill, listening to my shoes thump onto the carpet.

I walked over to my desk, grabbing my father's briefcase and unlatched it. The wall in front of the desk was a mess of papers and clippings and random things I'd thought were cool—a huge map of Manhattan, a couple metal license plates for New York, and a few news clippings I'd nabbed from Nick without him noticing.

I dug out a yellow file and flipped it open, pulling out the newspaper clipping I'd printed off from the computer about the lab fire. I pinned it onto the map and continued rifling through the papers.

I picked out a file about my father's studies.

_Hydroism. Pyroism. Alveolism. Telekinesis._

My father had studied and tested them all.

My eyes lifted up and focused on the journal.

I picked it up and felt the smooth leather under my fingers.

My eyes focused on the lock. My eyes burned momentarily as my fingers began to glow like those glow sticks kids wore at night or on Halloween.

I pressed my thumb against the lock and narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brow. Sweat began to trickle down my forehead as my thumbprint melted into the lock.

"C'mon," I urged, pressing my thumb harder into the lock. "_C'mon._"

The lock made a clicking sound.

My hands dropped the journal as extreme cold wrapped around my burning hands. I winced in pain, rubbing my palms together furiously as I huffed hot air onto them.

The lock on the journal broke off and the cover flew to the side, as if a huge wind had blown it. The pages began to flip feverishly fast until it landed on one page covered in sprawled handwriting.

_Dear whomever it may concern,_

_The tests have gone well. Maybe a little too well. My own son is a project, and I fear, so am I. The pyroism has infected him. He's grown in power. But, it infected me, too. I don't know what's happening._

_I've researched it for 24 years, ever since my best friend was infected, to try and help tone down the side effects. He was the only one to turn into the monster. Was._

_Somehow, the beast is eating away at the mind of knowledge, biting at everything right and logical. It's inside me—I can feel it. It was inside before. There's a beast in all of us._

_I could construct an antidote, get it out before it spreads and takes over. I've started it. But, I fear, the beast may be smarter than I think. It might be able to understand a few common words and gestures. It might destroy the antidote before it can get completely finished. The chemicals would be disastrous if they tipped and ignited._

_I can't put my wife and son at risk anymore._

_I've already put so much on the line just to research these topics._

_I know they're after me, for my research. They'll make me tell them everything I know, make me come clean about everything I've learned and everything that has engraved itself into my head. _

_They'll use my family. They'll use my friends._

_Nobody is safe._

_Everyone. Is. A. Beast._

At the bottom of the page, the edges glowed yellow, curling along the edges and burning golden brown. I watched as the paper continued to curl up to reveal the bottom of the next page.

I flipped the page, ignoring the numbing cold in my hands.

My heart almost stopped.

There, in the journal, was a sketch.

A sketch of six people—Peter, Danny, Luke, Sam, Ava and Crystal, all in a fighting stance.

Flying high above them was Keith, on the Goblin Glider, three pumpkin bombs tight in his left hand.

In the background, was a fiery red landscape, which flickered as if it were a movie screen. At the center of the group of six, stood a seventh person, barely visible through the flames—me, my hands glowing with pulsing light as my body warped into a supernova of heat.

I stared at the journal.

Had my father known this would happen?

Why wouldn't he of tried to prevent it?

A voice in my head whispered, _He did try. It just wasn't meant to be messed with. You can't mess with fate._

I told that voice to shut its pothole.

The journal flipped to another page, showing another note … addressed to _me._

_Dear Andrew,_

_I'm sorry for putting you through all of this._

_You have no idea how proud I am of you and how far ahead you've gotten with your powers. It's amazing, really, how the pyroism has accustomed to your body so quickly to become a part of you—but you don't want to hear my rambles._

_What you want to know is the truth._

_The only way you can be reading this is if you're much older and as far from me as I can keep you. I cannot tell you our location, for the fact that you'd make it your obligation to visit us, which I strictly prohibit. _

_Director Fury has taken great care of you over the years, and even if you disagree with his motives, he is protecting you, as am I._

_From whom is the question, though? Are we protecting you from Maxwell? From me? Or, maybe, even you, yourself?_

_The answer is undeniably unanswerable._

_Over my years, I've met countless heroes, villains and scientists alike. Dr. Connors was an old college, just like Peter Parker's father._

_I knew Nick Fury and his younger brother throughout high school. Phil Coulsan used to be my best pal. They were the usual group of people I hung out with at the time—and then I met your mother, sparks flew, yadda yadda, we fell in love and out came you._

_I'd met the Avengers and a bunch of heroes when I was recruited for S.H.I.E.L.D after having to decline a scientific degree for Harvard because Samantha was pregnant with you and Holt was getting a little too trigger-happy with his new accidental powers._

_Andy… your powers were accidental as well. The fire in the lab connected to our house… You weren't supposed to be in there when I was testing, but somehow you snuck in—you might've just walked in, looking for me or your mother, but the fact that you were infected with Pyroism is one of those things I wouldn't have expected to happen to you._

_It's one of those things that kills me inside because I couldn't protect you._

_But, the Pyroism saved your life. When you snuck in, the beast came out. He threw the vials and chemicals to the floor, flicking out his claws and igniting the room. The Pyroism in your system worked quickly to give you immunity to fire and intense heat—you couldn't feel any of it; your nerves were confused as to what was happening. You defied logic._

_You are a new species of hero, Andrew. There are more powers to obtain, many more. Maybe one day you could possess all of the powers, I mean, if you can handle the one you have._

_Don't let the beast come through, Andrew._

_With love,_

_James Jameson_

At the bottom of the page, under my father's cursive signature, was the faintest logo—the shield with the crossed scythes.

That logo was starting to come up. A ton.

I picked up my cell phone and decided to dial Keith.

I was still mad that he left the Helicarrier in the state he was in, but I knew he did it because, like everyone else, he was protecting me.

Honestly—I didn't need protecting, but everybody insisted.

After three rings, Keith finally picked up. Or, that's who I thought it was.

"Hello?" His voice sounded like he just woke up.

"Hey, Keith," I started.

"Um, what? This is Harry."

My mind raced. Why did Harry have Keith's phone?

It hit me like a slap in the face—they were brothers, but only Keith and Norman knew about that…

"Do you know where Keith is, Harry?" I asked him.

"Did… Did you know?" Harry asked quietly into the receiver.

"Know what?"

"About… Keith and me. Being siblings."

My heart thumped against my ribcage.

"Yeah," I said after a pause. "How'd you find out?"

"Keith and my dad were arguing in his office," Harry recalled. "I stood on the outside of the door, listening in. When Keith walked over to get out, I hightailed it out of there, thinking I'd get caught. So… it's true, then. Peter's really… Spiderman?"

I paused, pursing my lips together. "Harry, how much did you hear?"

"A lot. I know that you have some pretty dangerous powers my father's worried about… Did my dad really send all those things to kill Pete?" Harry asked, seeming oblivious about most of his father's actions against us.

I sighed. "I don't think they were sent to _kill _just Peter…"

"Yeah, but everything my father's been doing is somehow revolving around Peter," Harry said insistently. "I feel terrible over it. He sent out Doctor Octopus. He's the fucking Goblin, for crying out loud!"

"Harry. It wasn't your fault that your dad's against us," I told him, to calm him down. "I mean, look at Jonah Jameson. He goes against Peter all the time—Peter used to work for the guy!"

Harry laughed flatly. "Is there any way I can help you and Peter?"

"Just… don't get into this mess," I told him. "Don't get into all this superhero/villain nonsense. You may think it's cool—but it isn't. Peter would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of this. _I _wouldn't forgive myself. Just… stay out of it."

"But—" Harry began to protest.

"Stay. Out. Of. It," I told him, pausing after each word, making sure the words sunk in. "I'll clue you in on what's going on, but don't do anything stupid. You've already been attacked by Venom once, and I really don't feel like going to court against Norman frickin' Osborne."

Harry sighed. "Fine. Does this mean I can't clue in MJ on this…?"

"No. Don't even think about it," I snapped. "She's a news reporter. She'll blab her mouth to the head of the Bugle."

"Oh. Then, this is a bad time to say this, but…"

"Oh, god, Harry, you didn't." My stomach churned unpleasantly.

"It kinda sorta slipped…" Harry stated.

"Meet me at the Bugle, in five minutes," I snapped, standing up to reopen my window. "And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me handle the talking and the butt-kicking," I said.

"Butt-kicking?"

"Or head-smashing," I said. "Maybe some cigar-crushing. Whatever pisses Jonah off the most."

**Stay tuned for more.**

**Review please!**


	19. Sidetracked

I had to get to the Bugle before MJ raced over and talked Jonah's ear off.

I climbed from the roof, hopping down swiftly to the top concrete step in front of the door. I cursed myself as I remembered I still didn't have my jetpack. I'd have to get it from Keith—as soon as I got to the Bugle and stopped MJ from blabbing off.

I had to get there the old fashioned way—using the subways.

I hated the subway station. It was all underground and gave off an eerie feel, what with all the lights flickering from overuse and the sound of metal wheels squealing against metal track.

The people down there were creepy, too—middle-aged guys in imposing trench coats with briefcases and the occasional guy who looked ready to mug every cent off of you.

I should've considered the city bus, but I had to get there quick and honestly, these people wouldn't mug me in plain sight—they weren't _that _stupid.

I slipped in between the doors before they sealed shut. I started to walk to the seats, when I was jerked backward. I glanced back and realized my hood was trapped between the steel jaws of the doors.

I tugged a few more times, feeling the rest of the passengers regard me weirdly. I ended up unzipping the jacket and slipping out of it.

Most of the people turned their gazes away except for one dude—a huge gorilla of a guy, with biceps and veins popping over his arms. A huge pulsing vein stuck out on his forehead as he glared at me. He had something like a boxing mask over his gigantic head. He wore a huge trench coat that could've substituted as a blanket for seven kindergartners and trousers built for an overweight Grizzly bear.

My heart froze and sunk to my stomach.

I recognized this guy. He was yet another villain who hated our dear friend, Spiderman. Peter seriously needed to consider getting a fan club for all of these people just to keep track of them all.

He cracked his knuckles and took a step forward.

My hand itched toward my watch.

I _had _to call the team.

I pressed a button I'd become great friends with—the distress call.

The guy with the helmet sneered.

"Ah, gonna call your buddies?" He said gruffly. "Well… They're gonna be a little late."

He rushed me, aiming his huge shiny red helmet at my chest. I could see my own reflection in its smooth surface.

I ducked as far from his huge hands as possible, crawling under the arch of his legs and tripping forward as the subway picked up speed.

A few people screamed as Juggernaut turned on his heel, his hands indenting the pole he was strangling. He ripped it away from the metal ceiling and dark brown carpeting.

"You wanna play that way, huh?" He snarled. "Fine. Let's _play_."

Juggernaut rushed me, and this time, I couldn't side step for fear he'd attack the passengers. And, of course, my watch started buzzing.

I looked at it to notice Reed. Peter was looking over his shoulder along with Tony.

Reed raised an eyebrow. "Andy? What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing—" I started, before I was attacked in a bear hug.

Juggernaut wrapped his thick arms around me, tightening them like pythons. I gasped as his arms dug into my ribcage.

I twisted my wrist to give them a good view of Juggernaut.

"See?" I said through gritted teeth.

Juggernaut held me tighter, crushing any air from my lungs.

I gasped, futilely kicking my legs and struggling to squirm from his grip.

I heard a sound like someone flying through the air.

I stared out the large window and saw Harry, dangerously veering on a jetpack. I recognized the Oscorp logo sewn into the straps.

Harry bounced against the walls, causing yellow sparks to explode onto the tracks in sparkly showers.

Peter gasped from the watch. "Andy. Don't tell me that's Harry."

Juggernaut tightened his grip. "Is that _Osborne_?"

I laughed nervously. "Hey, uh, Cain, could you loosen the death grip?"

He only tightened it, growling under his breath.

Harry looked up through his brown hair, which had gotten windblown from the flight over. His eyes widened to the size of blue saucers.

Harry mouthed an 'oh', like this was a great explanation for me being late.

Juggernaut gripped his pole, throwing me across the room to slam into the window. I winced at the pain in the same shoulder I'd landed on from the Helicarrier fall. I was going to have to start carrying a bottle of painkillers in my back pocket.

I hit the floor with a thud, groaning in pain, when I heard something that jolted me with adrenaline—the sound of Juggernaut chuckling and asking the passengers, "Now… Who's next?"

That was enough to get me back to my feet.

I wasn't going to let him threaten innocent bystanders just because he was big and scary and as hairy as King Kong. He wasn't going to hurt anyone else but me. He attacked me first. I'm the only one here with worthy powers against his.

I glared at the back of his helmet, feeling warmth flood my palms and begin to throb in my forehead. My eyes began to burn and I could almost feel them change in temperature and color.

Red lasers flew from my eyes and seared into the back of Juggernaut's helmet. He didn't even notice until the beams melted right through the thick red metal and singed the pale skin of his head.

He sniffed. "Does anybody else smell that?"

"I've never smelt burnt brain cells before," I stated, "but I think that's what you're smelling right about now."

Cain's huge black eyebrows knitted together as his huge hand rubbed the melted spot on his helmet. He turned around, glaring at me angrily.

"I'm gonna finish ya off, punk," He spat.

I smiled and shrugged. "Okay. But, I kind of have to stop a reporter from ruining my best friend's career. So, can we pick up the pace?"

He glared at me, grabbing the pole and weighing it in his hand, and aiming it at my head like a javelin. I glanced back at Harry. I signaled for him to stay back just as I heard the pole whisk past my ear.

It pierced through the window, skidding against the sides of the subway tunnel. Fractures grew throughout the window.

I puffed out a breath of air.

The window caved in, shattering into a sheet of gigantic shards.

I laughed, glancing over my shoulder. "You coming, Cain?"

He growled under his breath, his hands growing into fists.

"I'm gonna smash you," He snapped.

"Okay, okay, sure," I said, holding my hands out toward him.

He punched his fist into his palms. "Any last words?"

"Yeah. Hulk," I smirked, "smash."

It was a guess. I thought it would only scare Cain. But, I guess Tony had suited everybody up when I was attacked, because, in a way, I was valuable. They never said it—but I knew it was true.

So, when Hulk smashed down on top of the subway car, causing all the lights to flicker off, I was genuinely surprised. The passengers screamed, panicking and banging on the door, which was jerked open by Cap. He instructed everyone to run to the next car and to not stop.

Juggernaut was under a pile of sparking rubble.

I could see the shine of his red helmet underneath the wires and metal plating.

Hulk turned, glaring at me over his shoulder. His eyes softened, to reveal Bruce's utter disappointment as I turned to Harry, signaled him over to unbuckle his jetpack. I began to strap it over my chest.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Is that…?"

"He isn't a _that_," I clarified. "He's a person. Harry, meet Bruce Banner—he's the green dude you're goggling over—and Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America."

Harry stared at me. "You _know _them?"

I rolled my eyes, glancing at my watch. "Oh, shit! Damn you, Cain! We need to get to the Bugle! Stat!"

I glanced up. "Could you two…?"

"Finish off Juggernaut and toss him behind bars?" Steve finished.

I nodded.

Steve smiled. "Gladly."

I grinned at him. "You guys are the best!"

Juggernaut began to stir underneath the rubble pile.

Steve took a step forward. "Andy, get Harry out of here. We'll handle Cain."

I turned to Harry, grabbing him by the collar of his neatly pressed shirt.

"Hello, passengers," I said in my best airline pilot impersonation. "We'll be arriving at the Bugle in five minutes. Sorry for the inconvenient delay. We advise you to buckle up and enjoy the ride."

"There isn't a buckle for me," Harry whined as I lifted him a few inches from the ground.

"Oh, Osborne," I laughed, "That's the point."

So… By now, MJ has probably told Jonah everything.

**-tries to think of something good to say-**

**Eh. I've got nothing besides Andrew finding a way to persuade him not to tell anybody—or kicking his slimy little ass.**

**I hope you liked this chapter… I'm horrid at fight scenes so usually I let the big guys come in and finish everybody off because we know that would be crazy epic but I can't write crazy epic fight scenes to save my life. Especially when Andy has to do something totally different afterwards, which is on both of our minds, so we get sidetracked and need them to figure out what the hell they're gonna do.**

**Next chapter is with Jonah… Pop your popcorn. This is gonna be good.**


	20. Long Lost Twice Removed

Flying through New York really helps you know a guy.

I found out Harry had a nasty fear of heights and what he ate for lunch.

Harry was screaming the entire time, so wanting to make sure no one knew we were coming _was not _happening.

When my eyes scanned the horizon and landed on the huge complex of the Daily Bugle, I veered down, shouting over the wind, "Harry! Ready to land?"

Harry kept his mouth shut and his eyes closed tightly, his fingernails digging through the denim of my jeans. As I lowered down, his sneakers scuffed against the top of the building. He cringed.

"These shoes cost more than your phone!" He whined.

"_Well_, I'm sorry, Harry, not all of us can afford the _iPhone frickin' 5_," I growled at him, kicking him from my feet as he ducked and somersaulted.

He grimaced.

"What's wrong now?" I asked.

"This sweater is _vintage_!" Harry cried.

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I'll come back for you _only _if you stop _whining_, you little baby."

Harry pouted, crossing his arms. "You better."

I saluted to him as I pressed down on a button, as air puffed out of the tubes and lowered me down to the windows.

My eyes scanned them, one by one, until I saw the back of Jonah's gigantic head, his hunched shoulders and the spark of his cigar. MJ was sitting in front of him, adorning a fedora over her long wavy red hair.

I flew forward, grabbing onto the window frame and ripping it open.

I seemed to surprise them by the way they jolted from Jonah's desk.

"What? Never seen a guy fly in through a window?" I asked.

Jonah's expression went from surprised to smug.

"Well, you're from Oscorp, huh?" He asked around his cigar. "Tell them I ain't payin'."

I raised an eyebrow. "Paying? All I want is the information that _she _told you." I jabbed my thumb at MJ, whose eyes widened.

Jonah looked between MJ and me. "What information?"

"The fact that Peter's Spiderman," I snapped.

Jonah stared at me. "What?"

I glared at him. "You're really playing dumb? Seriously. Joke's over. I know for a fact you know _all _about him because MJ babbled off."

MJ glared at me. "I didn't tell him."

My heart froze momentarily. "What?"

MJ's arched eyebrows furrowed. "I. Didn't. Tell. Him."

I stared at her, swallowing. "Oh. Then, why the fedor—"

She tilted the brow of the hat. "I got a promotion."

I stood there, confused.

"And, I didn't even have to tell him about Peter," MJ retorted.

I was about to explain how the hat was extremely misleading, when the door to Jonah's office swung open and in walked Peter Parker, right on time.

A camera swung on a thick Velcro cord around his neck. He held the camera in his hand as he clicked a button and a light flashed, blinding the three of us. I blinked repeatedly, trying to bat away the growing circles of light with my eyelashes.

He smiled. "Surprise!"

Jonah blinked. "What's the meaning of this?"

Peter smirked. "You just got punked, boss!"

Jonah narrowed his eyes. "'Punked'?"

"Yeah!" Peter laughed. "Say 'cheese'!" He snapped a photo of Jonah's humorless expression. "That's going in the scrapbook!"

Jonah scowled at Peter. "Parker, stop goofing off."

Peter smiled at him. "C'mon, Jonah."

Jonah's gray eyebrows furrowed as he shot Peter a blue-eyed glare. "Out, Parker. Or should I say…"

My stomach twisted into knots as Jonah shot an accusing finger at Peter as he shouted, "SPIDERMAN!"

Peter's eyes widened, his hands frozen around the camera.

His face suddenly broke into a smile as he laughed.

"Seriously?" Peter asked, laughing so hard that he grabbed his sides. "_Me_? Spiderman? Who gave you _that _idea?"

Jonah pointed to me, like a pouting little five year-old who had been asked, "Who ate the last cookie?"

I gasped. "What!"

MJ began pointing at me, too, so she wouldn't get in trouble.

Peter laughed, walking forward and slapping me against the back as hard as he possibly could. "Oh, Andrew, he's a joker, that one," Peter said, a tinge of bitterness slapping my eardrums furiously.

Jonah inspected me, head to toe, and something clouded his facial expression but he resisted from saying anything.

With everyone staring me down, I realized something I hadn't before—there was a shadow behind the glass of Jonah's office—it was hunched low, something pulled tight around its shoulders and it kept its eyes on a thin outline against a pad of paper.

I furrowed my eyebrows, asking, "Jonah. What other reporters work here?"

Jonah raised an eyebrow. "Mary and Parker are the only reporters here at the moment, but that can be arranged," He said, shooting Peter a glare.

I took a few silent steps forward.

"What are you—" Jonah began.

I whirled around, holding my finger against my lips and shooting him a glare.

I turned back, my hand inches from the metal knob, when it suddenly turned and jerked open.

I stumbled backward as a broad-shouldered teenager stepped through the door. He looked me over, bitterness showing in his icy gray eyes—if he could even _see _through the curtain of blonde hair shielding them.

He regarded Peter with a sharp glare and MJ with a flirty wink.

My stomach lurched. _Oh god, I'm gonna barf. This is just nasty._

The dude turned his attention to a scowling Jonah.

"Alex," He started, glaring. "You should be anywhere but _here_."

Alex nodded, his fingers interlaced behind his back.

"I know, Jameson," Alex said, glancing at me sideways.

My pulse practically stopped. _Wha—?_

Alex smirked. "I found out some more information on that fire at the school—"

It was official—I had stopped breathing by now.

"—and the fire in the lab years ago _and _the fire at that house you were so concerned about," Alex had continued, ignoring the fact that I'd gone paler than the pad of paper he thrust forward to Jonah.

My body was shaking slightly as Jonah inspected the papers; his blue eyes growing cold and somewhat gray, like confused waves crashing into each other during a storm.

"Thank you," Jonah said absently. "You can go now. You _all _can go."

The change in the atmosphere was sharp—it was overwhelmingly depressing, as if we were all being strangled by the same pair of fists tightened around each of our necks.

Alex cleared his throat. "Yes. I should get going."

Peter nodded, glancing at MJ. "Um, Mary, wanna go study for that science test this week?"

She nodded, her red hair slanting in front of her face. "Let's go, Pete."

I was left alone with Jonah, him staring hard at the crumpled papers in his hands, a new cigar in between his lips. His knit eyebrows flew up, as he turned to me.

"You're still here," Jonah observed.

I nodded. "Yeah. I don't know why. I-I can leave."

Jonah shook his head. "No. It's fine."

I nodded, standing there awkwardly as Jonah took a seat in his swivel chair.

"You … you were there," Jonah said, staring at the papers, rubbing his fingers over the bold titles of the newspaper articles. "At all of these."

Jonah held up the article of the fire of the lab.

"You were there," He started, his voice gruff and crushed. "You … you were rescued. _Taken _ismore like it. They refused to let me get you, to take you into custody."

Jonah picked up the paper about the fire in my old house.

"You were spotted here. Almost arrested," Jonah muttered, looking up and raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged nonchalantly, staring at his blue eyes.

They looked … familiar.

Jonah picked up the last picture. "And… the fire at the school," He mused. "Suddenly caused by what the fire fighters call 'careless lit cigarettes.'"

Jonah took a long draw of smoke from his cigar and blew a puff at my face. "Careless, sure," He said, looking me over, "but, cigarettes weren't the problem, I presume."

I stared at him. "How do you know?"

"I knew all about James' studies. James was really into all of that scientific crap. Something about the four elements—those were his favorites," Jonah murmured, his blue eyes clouding as he remembered.

My heart thumped. "You knew my dad?"

James scowled. "Yeah. I'm his older brother."

I wrinkled my nose. "But, that makes you my—"

"—Uncle," Jonah finished, patting his palms against the sheets of paper.

Millions of things ran through my head, but I decided to say the stupidest thing—"Oh. So, uh, does that mean I have to give you back the complementary pen?"

I dangled a pen loosely between my fingers, raising an eyebrow.

**Review!**


	21. Quality Family Time

Sadly, I didn't get a new pen to add to my stolen pen collection.

All I got was an uncle with an attitude and an ever-present cigar.

According to Jonah, he was James' older brother. Jonah never talked about his brother to the press, because, well, they didn't know anything about James or Samantha or me.

Sure, we had newspaper articles circling over how my parents disappeared, where I had gone, if I'd gone with them, etc., etc.

It was all gossip about how much people cared—which they _didn't. _They only acted like they cared because that was what society wanted them to do. Pretend.

They could've cared less about what happened to a little kid after a fire in his house and the mutation of some crazy cat-thing. They could've cared less where he went—foster homes, adoption centers, and alleys.

I was just another blotch on our society's record.

And, whether with whiteout or bleach, they were going to try everything in their power to make that blotch _invisible._

It was working. I was invisible to the human eye and to myself.

I felt like a vampire staring into a mirror, waiting to see what I looked like, but being sourly disappointed when all I could see were the white, sun-bathed walls of the room.

But, that was typical, wasn't it?

I was invisible. And, honestly, I liked it that way.

I wanted to be invisible right about now.

Okay, let me repeat—_I WANT TO BE INVISIBLE RIGHT NOW._

Guess who isn't invisible.

I sighed, looking between the two angry faces of my guardians.

Nick and Jonah were fighting over me.

Normally, I'd be totally fine with people fighting over me, but not when they were throwing forks and knives and glass plates at each other from across the kitchen.

The first thing that went wrong was that fact that I told Nick about Jonah.

Nick, suspiciously, wanted to have a formal dinner with him to chat.

That was bad thing #1.

Nick barely ate dinner with _me_—why the hell would he want to eat dinner with my rude uncle?

But, I didn't think twice about it—if they got to know each other, hit it off and didn't end up killing each other by the start of the main course, maybe I'd have a chance at peace in my screwed up family.

That speck of hope was bad thing #2.

Bad thing #3 was having the kitchen right next to the dining room.

Bad thing #4 was having the knives newly sharpened and in plain sight.

Bad thing #5 was to leave the room to take a piss.

Bad thing #6 was drinking the entire bottle of Mountain Dew at dinner, which caused my bladder to grow three freaking sizes larger.

Bad thing #7 was talking to my new cousin, leaving Nick and Jonah in the same room for thirty minutes _more _than I should have.

The list goes on and on, now that I'm reflecting over it.

I should explain what happened, at the beginning of dinner.

We had a bunch of food set out—piles upon piles of home cooked food, bottles of soft drinks and really delicate china that Nick had stashed away in his ex-wife's cupboard that he'd somehow kept when they divorced.

Jonah's son, John, clearly wasn't happy about being forced to have dinner with us. He kept glaring my way and muttering under his breath, "I could be having a goddamn party with horny-ass strippers right now, but, _nooo_, I have to hang out with my dead uncle's son."

I knew right away there was no way I would get along with Mr. I'm-An-Astronaut-I'm-So-Much-Better-Than-You, but I had vowed to Nick I wouldn't burst into flame and burn John alive.

We sat down at the mahogany dining room table, our forks clicking against our plates, through some thick meatloaf Computer had whipped up. I took a bite, trying not to grimace at the dry taste.

I'd never had home cooked food before. I mean, sure, from what I remember, my mom used to cook every night. She was a natural. Her food was always amazing, cooked to perfection.

Maybe the difference between a real mom and a databased version was what made food taste amazing and barely edible. I think it was the fact that the home-cooked food was cooked with love and the other food was cooked from calculations and instructions.

I grabbed a bottle of barbeque sauce and drowned my meatloaf.

I took a bite and smiled. I couldn't taste _any _meat.

Jonah cleared his throat. "So, Nick. Where do you work again?"

"I'm a police officer," Nick said, cutting up a piece of meatloaf and placing it in his mouth.

Nick seemed to think better of it, pulling the fork away as the revolting taste of meatloaf touched his tongue. Nick pointed his fork at Jonah, aiming the piece of meatloaf at his head. "And, you're what? Some mouthy guy on the news?"

I jagged Nick in the gut, which ended up hurting my elbow more than I would've suspected. I remembered the fact that he was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and that he was most likely wearing his bulletproof vest under his clothes, like he usually did.

I rubbed my elbow underneath the table, staring at the chunks of meatloaf floating in thick barbeque sauce. They were like desolate islands surrounded everywhere by ugly oily water.

Jonah had finished choking on his water. "I do _much _more than mouth off," He growled, glaring at Nick.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Really? Enlighten me."

"I give this city _news _they can't get _anywhere else_," Jonah spat.

Nick glared at him, hard. "News? You mean, complaining about a guy in a costume who saves people out of the kindness of his heart."

Jonah scoffed. "He's a costumed vigilante who puts our people's lives at _risk_ in order to save them. You're a cop. Shouldn't their lives mean something to you?"

Anger rippled across Nick's face. "Of course their lives mean something to me! Their lives mean _everything_! There is nothing I wouldn't do to save someone—that's what Spiderman does every single day of his life, and what does he get? Criticism!"

Jonah's face grew tomato red with anger. "He doesn't save anyone! He puts them at risk! Have you _seen _what Manhattan looks like after he's been through? It's destroyed!"

I stood up abruptly, tired of hearing everyone accuse someone as innocent as Peter. I shoved my hands into my pockets, turning on my heel and walking to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

Now, I'm sure you all don't want me to go into great detail unless you're all perverts, but I took a piss and was scrubbing my hands under a flush of steamy water when someone knocked on the door.

"I'm not decent," I said, turning off the running water and wiping my hands on a blue towel as the door swung open.

I yelped, shielding my crotch, even though my pants were up.

John rolled his eyes.

"You little creep!" I scolded him. "I could've been butt-naked!"

John glared at me. "Look, kid, I know you're one for dramatics, but calm yourself."

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "I have a name, you know."

John completely ignored me, tilting his head to the side. "Do you wear colored contacts?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Um… Why?"

John pointed at his own eyes. "Your eyes. They're orange."

I turned to face the mirror. My eyes were _defiantly _orange, only a thin swirl of blue left in the iris. I stared at myself in shock, until I realized John was still awaiting an answer.

I laughed. "Yeah! They're for my … Halloween costume!"

John raised an eyebrow. "What are you being?"

"Oh, you know, a werewolf," I said, shrugging nonchalantly.

John's brow furrowed. "But…"

I held up a hand. "I ordered yellow ones, but they sent me an orange pair. It's too late to order new ones. I've been trying to get accustomed to the feel of them."

I began to push John out, when I heard the first plate break.

I shoved past him, rushing into the kitchen.

Nick held knives in his fists, as if he had Wolverine claws.

Jonah held up a china plate as if it were a shield, his blue eyes leveled at him as he shouted, "My brother would be alive if it weren't for you!"

I froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

Nick shouted back, "Your brother's alive, Jameson! He's in hiding!"

Jonah screamed back, "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"

Jonah chucked the plate forward.

The plate was sliced into pieces by the knives Nick held in between his knuckles.

It seemed unreal—the fight reminded me of something out of a movie, where they used green screens and computerized special effects. But, I couldn't see a green screen and Nick and Jonah didn't have suctions tied together with wires taped to their skin.

As wave after wave of silverware was thrown, I started to feel more and more helpless, more and more angry, and more and more _feverish. _It felt like someone had spun the dial on the heating.

My body grew hotter, the air around me simmered, and I could feel my skin bubble into lava. I knew I was going supernova, but I glanced down at my fingertips to see that they looked like the tips of ET's fingers, glowing red instead of yellow.

Thankfully, Jonah was too preoccupied with throwing another plate at Nick to notice that I was on fire.

I spotted a thin curtain away from other flammable objects—that should break up the fight enough to help me run for cover and smother my flames before they got out of control.

This was the first time I was actually aiming liquid fire at something, but I needed to take the risk to stop them from stabbing the poor wall, or you know, each other.

I concentrated, aimed and fired, watching the magma touch the air, turning into lava, sloshing through the air and attaching to the rough fabric of the curtain, igniting.

Jonah and Nick freaked out, to say the least.

John tackled me down, screaming, "Stop, drop and roll, kid!"

Water was doused over me. My body sizzled in protest; smoke exploding off my arms in plumes. I coughed, suffocating at the lack of oxygen.

John stepped away from me as I coughed my lungs out.

Jonah and Nick stared at me from the kitchen doorway.

Jonah's mouth was a small, thin line. "James really did it," Jonah muttered forlornly. "He found out how to infect people with the fire."

Nick's shoulders slumped. "Fortunately and _un_fortunately."

**I went skating at Skate Daze yesterday … **

**Two words—I suck.**

**I was terrible; I kept tripping and falling and had to hold onto everyone with a death grip because I was afraid to fall, which I _did _anyways.**

**Everyone was showing off—even little four year-olds were better than me. **

**So, ignore how much I suck at skating, and just review.**

**Just. Review.**


	22. Dating Disaster

Shocker of the month—I've had no dating experience.

Sure, I 'dated' two girls in middle school.

I'm using the term loosely.

Honestly, middle school dating lasted a minimum of three days.

Mine always exceeded that length, but that doesn't matter.

I still have no freaking experience in dating, at all.

Why am I fretting over this?

Oh, yeah, because I'm supposed to pick Crystal up later.

I wiped my palms on my jeans furiously, pacing the room.

What do you even _wear _on dates? Just regular clothes or some fancy crap?

I glanced down at what I was currently wearing—jeans and a graphic tee, along with my converse and a beanie I'd stuffed into my pocket.

I ran my hands through my hair, tugging when my fingers got caught.

I inspected my eyes in the mirror—they were _still _a fiery orange, swirling with flecks of gold and red and yellow.

There wasn't any blue left in my irises.

I also had no idea how to hide the orange—my eyes shone like traffic cones infused with light bulbs in the middle of a dark street.

According to Nick, my eyes changed with chemicals in my body as I morphed into a supernova. It was sort of like hormones—except, you know, they were _pyro_mones.

_Ba dum tiss._

I glanced at my new alarm clock—remember, I broke the other one—and suddenly felt as if ants were crawling all over my body. It was one of those _pin-and-needles _feelings, where your entire body freezes and it's as if someone's pricking you into numbness.

I had two hours left.

Excuse me, as I hyperventilate into a paper bag.

My hands gripped the sink.

I felt sick and clammy and my stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots.

I was nervous.

Like, to a new extreme.

My watch buzzed against my skin and I met the serious face of Sam.

I almost had a heart attack—I mean, Sam was _serious. _

"Dude. We've got a problem," Sam stated.

I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Your face," Sam said, still serious until he started laughing hysterically.

I scowled at him. "Sam, this is not the time."

"Aw," Sam teased, "Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Sam was shoved out of the way by Ava.

I had never been so happy to see her in my life.

Ava looked distressed as she began to say, "The _real_ problem is," She sent a sharp look in Sam's direction before she turned back to me, "the Helicarrier is ten feet underwater."

My eyes widened. "What? How?"

"Ask your buddy, Keith," Ava snapped. "He probably knows _all _about it."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, ignoring her question. "Wait—is Nick okay?"

Ava nodded. "Yeah, he's fine, a little water-logged but fine."

I sighed in relief before I took in her expression. "If the Helicarrier is gone… Where are you guys living? You know, Nick wouldn't mind if you guys stayed."

Ava smiled. "We're staying at Peter's aunt's house, but thanks, Andy."

Sam ripped his watch back, shooting Ava a childish glare before he turned to me and smirked. "So, word on the street is you have a date."

That caught everyone's attention—five faces (including May—talk about humiliating) quizzically stared me down as Sam smirked smugly.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Sam started laughing his head off, practically keeling over. Danny smirked before bursting out laughing with Ava, Peter and Luke.

Danny stopped laughing to say, "I think I peed a little." They all started laughing again.

May shook her head, but I could see her suppressing a smile as she left the room.

I scowled after they'd settled down. "Look, that was sixth grade and the dude had long, girly hair—"

They burst into hysterics, tears coming to their eyes.

"_Anyways,_" I shouted over their laugher, "I'm going with Crystal."

They all stopped short.

"Crystal _Thompson_?" Peter sputtered.

"Um, yeah," I muttered.

"Seriously? Of all the people—you pick _Flash's _little sister?" Ava asked in pure bewilderment.

I shrugged. "She's cute and funny and she's got a dark side…"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Get married already."

Luke frowned at Ava. "C'mon, Ava, cut him some slack."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, no need to get _jealous_, Ave."

In the blink of an eye, Ava was punching Sam in the face and Luke and Peter were struggling to pull her back while Danny tried to pry Ava's hand from a fistful of Sam's hair.

I winced as Ava's fist collided with Sam's jaw. They started to shove each other between rough punches, a fist colliding with Sam's watch and busting the connection.

I sighed, turning on my heel to stare at my alarm clock—I had less than forty minutes before I was supposed to pick Crystal up.

**Ava's POV:**

Sam was complaining about how much his jaw hurt, which honestly, he had coming. He slouched, pressing an icepack to his jaw line and rubbing it slowly.

Danny sat beside me on the couch. We were sitting across from Luke and Peter, who occupied the other couch. Peter was showing Luke his comic book collection and trying his best not to squeal his head off like the fanboy he really was.

May walked into the room with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

She set them on the glass coffee table, instructing, "Eat up!"

All the guys began reaching for the cookies.

Peter's cell phone rang.

Peter reached for his cell phone, taking a bite of his cookie as he asked, "Hello?"

Peter spit out his cookie across the table.

"Gross!" I snapped, jumping up and staring down at my silver sweater, now spotted with Peter's spit and chocolate chips. "PARKER, WHAT THE HELL—"

"No, MJ, I didn't forget," Peter rambled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll pick you up."

Peter hung up the phone, and if May hadn't been in the room, I would've strangled him.

May shot Peter a disapproving look, before she took my arm and said, "Let's get you cleaned up, sweetie."

**Andy's POV:**

I parked Nick's car in front of Crystal's house.

I unbuckled, opening the door and slamming it shut.

I walked along the sidewalk path to ring the doorbell to her house.

The door was swung open and Flash Thompson greeted me.

Normally, Flash's presence would imitate the crap out of me, but considering how he was wearing Spiderman boxers, I felt like I was pretty superior to him.

**Aw, Flash is so cute; you guys don't even know how his obsession with Spiderman is like the most adorable thing ever, aw.**

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE.**

**I honestly thought the jokes about Andy's sexuality were hilarious… It might just be me. **

**And, the reason Sam was making jokes was because, I don't know, that might be his way of dealing with stuff like that. I mean, the only home he'd ever really known is settled at the bottom of the ocean…**

**But, yeah, review, eat lots of food, have fun Black Friday shopping and stay safe!**


	23. The Beast Appears

Flash did a double take when he saw me—like he couldn't believe he'd just opened the door for a lame underclassman and that that loser had seen his Spiderman underpants in all of their web-slinging glory.

I pulled out my cell phone, pretending to text someone as I snapped a picture. Too late did I realize the flash _and _sound was still on, so as I took the picture, a very loud click erupted from the cell phone, along with a blinding flash.

Truth be told, the blinding light saved my life.

The flash blinded Flash—ironic, right?—and gave me enough time to take a step towards the grass before Flash threw himself outside, one eye open and another closed. He tackled me to the ground, screaming and threatening my life if I didn't delete the picture.

Being the star quarterback surely helped Flash pin me down, but I had the upper hand, what with my little pyroism trick.

My eyes began to burn, and surely enough, Flash jumped back from me, rubbing the palms of his hands together. I smirked at his shocked expression, as I remarked, rather smartly, "Nice briefs, Eugene."

Flash's eyes widened in bewilderment as I stood up, just as Crystal walked through the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at us, stuffing a few bills and her cell phone into her purse.

Flash stalked back into the house, slamming the door.

Crystal raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Flash has an issue with picking fights."

Crystal stared at me. "_Flash _has the issue? From what I heard, _you _started it with taking that picture—which, by the way, I want to see."

I smiled, holding out my cell phone so she could see the picture of her brother's wide deer eyes and his Spiderman boxers.

She laughed out loud, her hair swinging back in blonde curls, her eyelashes kissing her cheeks.

I smirked back, walking her to Nick's car. I opened the passenger door for her, beckoning her toward it. She slid in, pulling it shut behind her. I walked around to the driver's side door, opened it and hopped in.

I buckled my seatbelt, pulling my keys from my pocket. I put them in the ignition, turning it as the engine roared. I glanced at her. "Where are we heading?"

Crystal thought for a second, chewing her lip. "Are you hungry?"

I wasn't, but I lied and said I was starving.

She smiled. "Alright. Let's head to this coffee shop I know about. They have the best scones in the freaking world there."

…

After three servings of scones and a couple frothy cappuccinos, I was insanely hyper and while I was in my hyperactive state, Crystal decided she wanted to discuss my pyroism.

My fingers thumped against the table. My foot tapped to the beat of the pop music softly drifting through the shop. I slumped against my seat, straightened and slumped again.

Crystal sighed. "Would you sit still?"

I groaned. "How can you ask that after you handed me two cups of liquid caffeine?"

Crystal rolled her eyes, staring imploringly at my own. "Look, if you don't listen to me and answer my questions, this pyro thing is going to burn you up."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. It's just a little fire trick, okay? It's not going to 'burn me up.'" I over dramatized with air quotes.

Crystal glared hard at me. "Andy. Why are you acting like this?"

I stood up, frustrated and angry. "_What _am I acting like?"

Crystal stood up abruptly. "A jerk."

I stared at her. "Me? Really? _You're_ treating me like a mental patient—like one touch and I'll burn you alive!"

She glared at me. "You don't know anything about pyroism, do you?"

I laughed harshly. "Actually, I do. I know a lot more about this topic than you must think."

She stood up, grabbing her jacket and her cup of coffee.

I stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," She snapped.

I watched her turn her back and stalk out, before I tried to race after her.

Keyword—_tried._

As I opened the door, it was slammed shut by a guy I unfortunately recognized. It was Alex, the dude I'd ran into at The Daily Bugle—and this time, he had some friends with him.

Now, I don't know if it was Crystal's idea to ditch me so I could get pummeled, but I had a feeling this guy knew who she was and didn't like the fact that I'd just gotten her upset—which she had brought upon herself, need I remind you.

Alex glared at me. "Are you giving her trouble?"

I glanced out the glass to see that Crystal was already blocks away.

I sighed. "Look, _Alex_. I don't want to you to start a scene."

He laughed. "Seems like your yelling contest made enough of a scene already."

I glanced around—everyone in the coffee shop was watching us intently.

I turned my attention back to Alex, smiling. "Do you mind if we take this outside?"

Alex smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Gladly."

…

I was never a kid who got picked on in middle school. I was friendly so no one really had a reason to shove me in a locker and I was never in an actual fist fight—I'd seen a few in some movies, but aside from that, I'd never really experienced a full-blown fight.

Sure, I trained with the rest of the team, but they made sure not to injure me, considering how I was Nick's son and he was so severely protective over me that absolutely no one knew about my existence until I'd come out with it now.

When Alex came at me the second we were out of the public eye, it surprised me. I was caught off-guard. The two big guys suddenly cornered me and Alex was clenching his hands in fists.

The men grabbed me with their meaty fists, and had I seen it coming, I would've flipped them and slammed them into the brick walls of the alley. But, no—they had this planned out.

So, while they held me by my shoulders and Alex practiced punching the air, I was silently hoping my assault wouldn't be too drastic… I'd been blessed with an average appearance and honestly didn't want to meet a plastic surgeon anytime soon.

Alex punched the air dramatically like Steve probably did to get his anger out.

I blurted, "Look, man. If you're going to hit me, then hit me and stop putting off the inevitable. But, I'd like to at least know why my face is going to be smashed in before I'm a regular with my dentist, all right?"

Alex sighed, letting his arm fall to his side. He thought for a long moment.

"You upset Crystal," He said after an extremely long pause.

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess I did." I ran my hands through my hair, causing flames to lick against my fingers.

The men holding me back immediately let go, stumbling over each other to get away from me.

Alex didn't seem phased. "Do you know _why _she's so upset?"

I shook my head stupidly.

"She. Likes. You," He said slowly, as if I were a toddler. "She has feelings for you, and you could care less!"

"I care about her!" I snapped back, fire erupting across my forearms.

"Really?" Alex mused. "If you had, you would've _listened _to her, instead of blowing her off."

I lunged at him, wrapping my hands around his throat and pressing as hard as I could, choking him. I stared into his shocked eyes as he tried to speak.

I let go, staring at my burning red hands in shock. Alex had fallen to the ground, his hand resting against his throat that had the red-hot imprint of both of my hands resting against the front of his neck.

I took a step back, glancing from my hands to his neck.

Something in my mind snarled, _Finish him._

I stood, shock-still. "What?" I asked aloud.

_Finish him. Now_, It snapped.

I shook my head. "No."

An intense pain stabbed against the right side of my forehead.

I fell to the ground, crying out, grabbing my head.

_Finish him._

"No! I'm—not—going—to—do—it!" I screamed, slamming my head into a plastic garbage bin repeatedly.

I roared in pain, my head throbbing as I rushed out of the alley and into the five-o'clock traffic.

**Whoa—whoa—whoa. Dramatic.**

**Tomorrow's my sister's birthday—Happy early 10th birthday, Ryann! Double-digits! Woo!**

**I had to do this 'mock interview' for Hyvee at my school… The lady asked if I was friendly, and I was like, "No. I'm antisocial unless I'm on the computer and talk to all of my friends on fanfiction." I MENTIONED YOU GUYS!**

**I actually got all of my extra-credit points on that, because I was honest, but the lady didn't tell me if I would've gotten the job if it was real or what I did wrong, so I was pissed off because I FREAKING DRESSED UP FOR THAT FAKE INTERVIEW.**

**Anyways. I got this new book from the school library. It's called _A Bad Day For Voodoo _by Jeff Strand, and I would be lying if I said I didn't laugh at almost every sentence (besides the gory ones… I'm not mental like the dude's insane friend). I would literally marry the author—he's so hilarious and deranged, I just love him. I recommend it to all of you if you think of yourself as a little weird.**

**Go ahead; leave a review on how badly I ended this story and how Andy's love life is so jacked up. I was going to make Peter and Andy go on a double date with their girls (I originally wasn't planning on Andy running into Alex), but whatever. I might make Andy run into Peter still, because I had all these inside jokes to add in…**

**Now I have to get ready to go to my sister's performance at Barnes & Nobles.**

…**I'm just going to find some books to fangirl over…**

**I just remembered something! I went to see Rise of the Guardians and I FREAKING LOVED IT! I LOVE JACK OMG OMG OMG JACK FROST MAN I LOVE THAT BOY HE'S SO HOT IT'S SO IRONIC AHA.**

**I'm starting to question my sanity at the moment.**


	24. Control the Beast

Pain shot through my head like bolts of pure lightning. My hands held my forehead, as I was trying to pry open my skull. Lights flashed before my eyes. Brakes were slammed down. Cars collided. A taxi driver swore at me. I threw his cabbie into the nearest building.

I stalked through the streets, shoving past taxis and semis and city buses. Everything was pissing me off. The go-lucky laughter of people wandering through malls, the annoying screech of brakes being slammed, people screaming at me to get off the world or flipping me off—I wanted to push all those people down and beat them until they were nothing but a smudge spot on the street.

What was happening to me? I was a hero! I couldn't think about harming civilians, yet here I was, clenching my jaw as my hands turned into fists and I stiffly walked through a green light, not giving a flying shit about where they were going or what they were doing.

No, scratch that—I did care. I cared so much that it hurt. I wanted to open someone's car door and hug them and pick them off the ground and twirl them around and sob into their clothes and tell them I was sorry for everything that had happened to them, even if it wasn't my fault.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to sit down in the middle of the street and cry my eyes out. I wanted to punch a wall, burn down a building. I wanted to kiss Crystal passionately like in a sappy romantic movie and apologize for flipping out on her. I wanted to become a monk and swear off women for the rest of my life. My mind was confusing; torn between making the hero decision and the complete opposite.

So, with all those thoughts in my head, I did my first opinion. I sat down, in the middle of five o'clock traffic, wrapped my arms around my knees and began to sob like I'd just watched Marley and Me.

My sobbing drowned out the rest of the world. I barely even heard cars blasting their horns, people swearing at the top of their lungs or the news reporters shoving microphones into my face and asking questions faster than I could let out another sob.

I wanted everyone to just leave me alone, let me wallow away in misery, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I stood up, wiped my eyes and stalked away from the road, trying to clear the fog in my head.

_Look around, _a growl snarled in my head. _What do you see?_

Destruction. People. Camera crews idling, trying to figure out who I was—what I was.

_Do they even matter? _The growl snarled.

Yes. They did.

_Don't be an idiot._

Was I insulting myself?

_Listen to me, now._

No.

_LISTEN TO ME._

"LA LA LA LA! I can't hear you!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, running away from all the confused onlookers. I ran as far as my legs would allow before they buckled under my weight.

I crumbled into a bench in front of a bookstore. The view was nice, I guess. The sky was gray, albeit a little cloudy, and I could see mist rolling through the tall apartments and buildings. I didn't even know what part of New York I was in—maybe I wasn't even _in _New York anymore. It seemed way too peaceful to be in the city that never slept.

I watched a few little kids kick a soccer ball in some grass, laughing as they slid over the fresh patches of mud. Birds sang, geese honked, people laughed. It wasn't overwhelming as much as the city was and the voice in my head was gone.

All of a sudden, it wasn't peaceful. I heard the screech of a car and saw the kids, the ball in the street, one of the younger kids running out to get it.

I leapt up from the bench before I could think. I ran out, grabbed the kid and dropped him on the grass, turning around and slamming my palm against the car. I met the driver's gaze and I could've sworn I saw him smirk but it was gone just as quick.

The driver jumped out of the car. "Oh my god, is everybody okay?" He asked, frantic. He had a really deep raspy voice, which made him sound like a pedophile, especially since he had this really stupid goatee and these gay sideburns.

The kids seemed to be in shock.

I bent down, picking up their soccer ball and bouncing it on my knee before tossing it to one of the older kids. "Everybody's fine. Watch where you're going next time, bud."

The driver stared at me. I raised an eyebrow. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I've seen you before."

I was about to ask him if he could take a drug test when the youngest kid tugged on my jeans. "Are you a superhero?" He asked me. "Do you know Spiderman? Batman? How about Iron Man? Oh, do you help Hulk smash things and—"

The kid's older brother tapped him on the shoulder to make him stop talking.

I laughed. "No, no, it's fine. Yeah, I hang out with all those guys. Want me to scrounge up an autograph?" I asked, crouching down to look him in his widening eyes.

"Yes! That would be awesome!" He yelled, grabbing me into a hug. "Sign it out to 'William, your biggest bestest fan in the entire world!'"

I grinned. "Okay, I'll set to work on those signatures, Will."

Will grinned, letting me out the hug as his friends called him over for another game of kicking the ball around. He smiled at me and waved before kicking the ball with his sneaker.

I laughed, smiling, when I was interrupted by a raspy voice, "What do you consider yourself? A hero or a villain?"

I turned to stare at the guy. "Uh, what?"

"What are you? A hero or a villain?" He repeated, seeming annoyed.

I stared at him for a moment. I took a step back. "Who are you?" I asked.

He smiled. "A friend."

I shook my head. "If you were a friend, you wouldn't put little kids into harms' way. Will could've died if I hadn't been here. You were going twenty miles over the speed—"

The guy shot me a glare. "Yeah, but that kid's alive because you _were _here. I'm not stupid." He glanced at his car. "So, what's your super power? Doesn't look like something as simple as a photographic memory, eh?"

I glanced at the car. My handprint was infused into the metal.

I shrugged. "Everywhere you look, seems like there's a super or a villain. Tell me, what are you?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against his car, trying to cover up my handprint.

He smirked. "Last I checked, this was _your_ interrogation, but I'll humor you. Let's see … I worked with a team when I was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. Do you have a team, kid?"

I shrugged. "What do you mean by 'worked?'"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I mean that work got tough and I'm not in S.H.I.E.L.D., anymore. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, backing up a step, noticing the rising heat in the air as his anger grew.

He cracked his knuckles. "You know what? I'm getting tired of this. The indirect approach doesn't work out for me. I think I'm going for the _direct _approach."

Before I could react, the man grabbed my arm with incredible speed and held it with his viselike grip. I stared at him in shock as he pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. He clicked a button and said into it, "Change of plans."

I didn't waste a breath. I threw my hand into the air, smashing my fist into his jaw. He growled in surprise and frustration, placing his hand against his jaw and massaging it.

He rushed me and I brought up my arm to block his fist from hitting me between the eyes. His fist clenched around my arm and before he could twist it back, I felt heat increase in intensity and watched flames lick through his palm.

He didn't jump back like I'd expected. Instead, he smiled slyly and I saw the faint outline of what looked like gloves over his hands. "They're fireproof, kid. You can't see them because they're invisible. A bit like you, eh?"

I flinched and looked at him, greeted by his wide smile.

"I know what you're thinking. Blowing up my car won't help you. You've already got the beast's influence in your mind, kid. Your eyes barely have one speck of blue in them," He said slowly. "You're losing your control over yourself and your abilities. I've seen it happen. I would remember."

I narrowed my eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm Tony Masters, ex-hero. Maybe you're better acquainted with my alter-ego, Taskmaster?"

**Woo, you go, Taskmaster, you go, sir.**

**I watched a few reruns and got back into the updating spirit.**

**Merry Christmas Eve Eve or Happy Hanukah or whatever you celebrate. Oh, I know—good job to everyone for surviving the lamest end of the world ever.**

**Happy Birthday to Louis Tomlinson, 21 years of ass and sass and still going on!**

**I'm so excited for the next season of The Ultimate Spiderman; you guys don't even understand how much I'M HARCORE FANGIRLING RIGHT NOW. It's going to be awesome I can already tell.**

**Okay, so I was stalking through my reviews, and a guest was talking about how I was freaking over the guys being shirtless and stuff and it (i dont want to be rude and give the guest a gender...) said in the Venom episode, Danny has no pants AHA OH MY GOD AND THEN THEY STARTED TALKING ABOUT PERCY JACKSON WHAT HOW DO THEY KNOW WHAT I LIKE EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO SCREAM THIS IS INSANE-**

**OH DEAR LORD PANDORA IS POSSESSED SOMEBODY HOLD ME AHH IT JUST SCROLLED THROUGH MY STATIONS BECAUSE MY HAND WAS NEAR IT HOLY CRAP GUYS HOLY CRAP AHH I MIGHT HAVE JUST CONTROLLED IT WHAT IS GOING ON IM SCARED SOMEONE HOLD ME IM PEEING WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS. OH GOD IT DID IT AGAIN NO ITS POSSESSED I DONT WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS STATION PLEASE STOP.**

**You know what to do, drop me a review.**


	25. Arsonist

Taskmaster was actually a pretty cool guy after you got over the fact that if you tried to fight back, he would use your tactics against you about three times harder.

I'd like to say that he dragged me into the car, kicking and screaming, but really all he had to do was twist my forearm in a really awkward position and I was practically jumping into the car to make him stop.

He pulled out of the peaceful area and I scowled as I watched the people, the shops, the entire place become a gray smudge of mist on the horizon. I turned in the passenger seat and set my glare on him.

"So, where are we even going?" I asked.

He laughed. "Someone's a bit grumpy."

"Oh, no, I'm totally cool with being kidnapped by a lunatic," I snapped, crossing my arms.

Taskmaster's shoulders tensed and he glared at me. "Look, kid, we're trying to help you," He said slowly. "If you freak out, you'll burn up worse than a piece of paper in a campfire."

I furrowed my eyebrows. That sounded familiar.

I mentally slapped myself—that's what Crystal had tried to explain to me. Man, did I feel like an ass.

"So, what will happen?" I asked, staring at my hands and inspecting the orange veins.

Taskmaster shrugged. "Ever heard of spontaneous human combustion?"

My eyes widened. "But, isn't that pretty much impossible?"

Taskmaster shook his head. "Try and explain how impossible it is to the 200 people worldwide who have been killed by it."

"Wait—there are more people who have this?" I asked, snapping my fingers to have fire explode across my palm.

Taskmaster swerved the vehicle, shooting me a glare. "Kid, would you _knock it off_? I'm trying to make sure we get to the laboratory in one piece."

"A laboratory? Dude, I am _not _an experiment," I snarled. "I explained that to everybody at S.H.I.E.L.D. and I don't feel like explaining it to you and some idiot villains."

I was about to open the car door and jump out, when I heard the distinct click of a lock.

Taskmaster glared at me. "You're not going anywhere, firecracker. The boss wants to make sure you're stable."

I threw my arms up in frustration. "Who the hell is your boss?"

Taskmaster ignored me, turning on the radio to drown me out.

I stopped complaining and listened closely to the radio. It was a police beeper, like what Nick listened to every morning. I'd been gone a couple hours and I already felt homesick.

"…robbery," I heard an officer exclaim. "At least seven hostages. The men have guns."

Taskmaster rolled his eyes and reached forward to change the channel.

My hand darted out, wrapped around his wrist and I felt it grow in heat.

Taskmaster yelped, wrenching his wrist from my hand. The red imprint of my palm and fingers glowed against his skin.

I leaned forward, turning my head to listen to the radio.

"Madison Avenue. Need reinforcements," The officer said.

I nodded and before Taskmaster could even comprehend what I was thinking, I slammed my palms against the windshield and watched the glass melt into orange puddles. I jumped through the makeshift hole and ran.

…

I don't know why I was running so fast.

I was running faster than Tony's sleek black car. I was going faster than a freight train. I could feel the wind rip through my hair, through my clothes. I could feel cold wrap around my spine, bite my skin, and run its icy claws through my clothes.

I kept running until my eyes caught sight of the building I was looking for. Citi Bank on Madison Avenue, surrounded by dozens of cop cruisers and concerned men and women.

I rushed over, going invisible and darting to an alley to toss my clothes to the side. I really didn't feel like getting attacked by news crews and undercover spies who were scattered throughout the police force.

I darted through the officers, trying not to bump into them. I listened to their conversations, hearing blurbs and snippets of what was going on.

Apparently, there was a team of five mad gunmen keeping the bank staff, a few innocent customers and two foolish officers hostage. The officers had disobeyed orders and had rushed in but were overwhelmed.

I walked toward the glass windows and bit the inside of my cheek, contemplating how I'd get in. I decided that blasting the windows might be a bit too extreme. I turned around, spotting an unsuspecting officer.

I walked over to him, unclipping his gun from his belt. I aimed the gun at the window, clipped the safety off and was about to press my finger against the trigger when the crowd grew quiet.

I turned my head and realized everyone's eyes locked on me—or more on the only thing they could see, which was the gun. Which, I guess to them, was floating.

_Ah, fuck._

I lowered the gun slightly.

One of the officers stared at me with a delirious look in his eye. "It is an act of the Devil! Let God have mercy on our souls!" The officer fell to his knees, bowing his arms wildly over his head.

I stared at the officer, backing up a little.

A few officers trained their guns at my gun. I glanced at my gun and tried to figure out how much it would hurt to take a bullet to the wrist.

I didn't even have to think too hard.

With a slight flick of my wrist, they all started shooting. The glass behind me shattered and I got what I wanted. I turned and sprinted through the shattered glass, hopping over the shards and listening to the screaming alarms that made my ears bleed in response.

I got as far as the lobby before the gunmen ran out to greet me.

They were huge and burly, with tattoos snaking up their muscled arms. They had guns I'd never seen before—huge, metal with something … familiar. They had pulsing blue lights that left fireworks behind my eyelids.

I'd seen those guns before … somewhere.

The gunmen glared through me toward the officers who trained their guns at any body part they could focus on. One of the gunmen made a motion with his unarmed hand and pulsating blue lights exploded from the blasters they held.

The officers yelled and scattered. I closed my eyes, feeling the beams blaze across my eyelids and face. I ducked, losing focus and going visible.

The five or six men didn't cower in fear like I'd expected. They laughed.

"Is this some kind of joke?" One of them chuckled. "Sending in a naked kid to beat us? Is that all you officers got? _Huh?_"

Another one laughed. "They've gotten sloppy with who they send in."

I aimed the gun at them, deciding that getting shot would be really bad and I could live with a little humiliation.

The men laughed at the gun in my hand.

"What are you going to do?" One of them taunted. "Shoot us?"

I nodded, pressing my finger to the trigger. "Yeah. I will."

That would've been a great time to have a couple bullets go through their thick skulls, but of course, that didn't happen because everyone wants to see the world burn (literally).

Instead of a couple bullets flinging out of the gun, a spark of fire did.

It was a lighter, not a gun.

I stared at the flame, watching it flicker. The gunmen chorused with laughter. I furrowed my eyes at it, sighing, and shouted toward the crowd of officers, "Seriously? Why don't you put a real fucking gun in your gun holster?"

The gunmen backed up, fear etching over their faces.

"What?" I snapped at them.

I glanced at my hand, at the lighter. The flame was _way _bigger than it had been before. The flame jumped from the lighter to my fingertips and erupted at my wrist, igniting down my forearm as if it were lined in gunpowder.

The men tripped over one another, murmuring under their breaths.

"It's _him,_" One of them breathed.

"It can't be," Another interjected.

"But, it is," The leader snapped, pulling his blaster to his shoulder and aiming it directly at my chest. He pressed his finger to the trigger of the blaster. The blue lights hummed before the leader slammed his finger against the trigger, where the humming became a shrill screech that stabbed against my eardrums.

I winced, squinting at the blue lights.

The man laughed harshly before saying, "Lights out, Flame-boy."

The lights pulsated one last time before they turned in a churning vortex and shot out of the blaster in a large beam of white-hot energy.

My ears popped; my heart took off sprinting in a marathon. Adrenaline pumped through my body and the world seemed to go by excruciatingly slow.

I brought up both of my hands, palms outward.

I could feel the molecules in the air vibrate even faster than they had before. The heat in the air increased rapidly. I closed my eyes, holding my hands away from my body before I yelled a battle cry, forcing all of the energy I could muster into that one orange blast of fire.

When I opened my eyes, the gunmen were lying haphazardly around what was left of the lobby. I could see the head of one of the hostages peek out from around the corner. I was standing in front of a chunk of the smoldering building but if the fire fazed the hostage, they didn't show it.

The ex-hostage, a pretty brunette, walked over and raised an eyebrow. "Now, who do I get to thank for burning my workplace?" She asked, her blue eyes a bold contrast to her pale skin.

I smiled slightly. "Well, that's the thing. Haven't thought up a hero name yet."

She laughed and I had to stop myself from laughing along with her. I doubted it would be appropriate with what had just happened. "A hero? A lot of people won't think so once they hear about this."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, we don't have to argue about this. You could just say 'thank you.'"

She smiled, making her face glow. "But, that'd be easy. Now, what can I call you? What can the _city _call you?"

I thought for a second. "I don't know. Find something fitting, would you?" I asked, turning and about to leave.

Her blue eyes widened. "Wait. You're just going to leave?"

I turned to look at her and nodded slowly. "I'm not known here. I'll probably get arrested for arson. Do you know what happens to handsome guys like me in jail? It rhymes with grape."

She rolled her blue eyes, a smile peeking at the corners of her mouth.

"But, uh, can I get a name? I mean, I need to know who I'm protecting," I said, stumbling over my words.

She smiled, replying cheekily, "Wow, that was smooth."

I shrugged sheepishly.

She sighed, before saying, "Blaise Pyrrhos."

"Nice to meet you, Blaise. Now, I better get going. I need to find some clothes before I get ticketed for streaking," I smiled, winking teasingly before exploding into flame and taking off, running toward the alley I'd left my clothes.

**Andy, that boy loves dramatic exits.**

**It took me about thirty minutes to find out what Blaise's name would be, but I like it. Blaise is Latin-Greek for, well, "blaze". Pyrrhos is the Latin word for "flame-like" and is the name of Achilles' son.**

**I've also got a superhero/villain name for Andy! I'm so excited for you guys to hear it, but you'll have to wait until the time is right in the story for his new name to come out!**

**I got two mythology books yesterday and I've already finished them … whoops**

**Leave a review and have a Happy New Year!**


	26. Heroic

After streaking for a bit, I finally got to the alley I was looking for.

But, with my luck, of course there had to be a catch.

There were two people I recognized. A bully from my school, one of the football players and one of the nerdy guys from my school, complete with the dorky glasses and scrawny physique.

The bully, Thomas Heller, was threatening the nerd, Jerry Jacobs. Thomas was slamming his fist into his palm, emphasizing what would happen if Jerry didn't listen to him.

Thomas wasn't the smartest but he wasn't brain dead, either. He knew enough to negotiate with his victim.

I was standing on a fire escape, looking down at the two. I sighed, knowing I'd have to break it up before anything bad happened. They'd recognize me if they saw my face—which was exactly what I would have to do. I'd need to use the alleyway to my advantage while using my pyroism to scare them off.

I glanced at a few of the motion lights hanging from the balconies. I glanced down, making sure they were still unaware of my presence, before feeling a ball of fire flicker in my hand. I narrowed my eyes at the lights and let the fireballs fly from my hand.

They hit the lights and in a shatter of glass and an explosion of sparks, the alley was suddenly pitch-black besides the glow of the moon.

I jumped from the fire escape, landing on my ankle awkwardly. I winced but ignored the pain, grabbing a tuff of hair that I hoped was Thomas and not Jerry. I snapped my fingers and let fire explode across my skin and snarled, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Heller?"

Thomas gulped. "I—"

"_No_. You don't know what you're doing because you don't think," I snarled at him. Thomas' eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them. He looked scared shitless.

"I-I'm sorry," Thomas stuttered, trying to pull away from me. "I won't do it again."

"Yeah. You won't," I snapped. I let go of Thomas and watched him scramble away in the glow of the fire, glancing back fretfully. I smiled smugly, turning to notice Jerry staring at me.

"Are you," Jerry straightened his glasses, "naked?"

I looked down and looked back up. "Seems like it."

I snapped my fingers; leaving us in darkness as I grabbed my clothes from a garbage bin I'd stuffed them in. I struggled to fit them on and once my lower half was covered, I snapped my fingers again.

Jerry watched me closely. "That's a really high-tech lighter."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I said, wadding up my shirt.

Jerry sighed. "That's not a lighter, is it?"

I froze. "Um, what?"

Jerry took a step forward. "That isn't a lighter."

It wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement, like he'd just figured it out.

My nervous laugh was suddenly too loud. The echo of my laugh seemed like it was bouncing around in a tunnel, echoing each time it hit a surface, replaying the fake laugh over and over and over again.

"What are you talking about?" I asked Jerry in between gasps for breath and I hysterically laughed. "That's ridiculous!"

Jerry narrowed his brown eyes, readjusting his glasses before his eyes widened in horror. "Your hand is on fire!"

I glanced at my hand and watched the flames lick up my fingers. "What do you know," I murmured, before I started screaming and waving my hand around, trying to act as if the fire actually hurt and that my panic wasn't just for show.

I honestly wasn't expecting Jerry to _faint_ but he did. I'm a much better actor than I expected.

He hit the asphalt with a thud and I sighed, snapping my fire out and grabbing him by his shirt. I considered leaving him in the alley, but my good heroic self decided that wasn't the best idea. I mean, this scrawny little guy could barely walk through the boys' locker room without getting pantsed. How would he survive in the cutthroat alleys of Manhattan?

I threw the kid over my shoulder and marched away from the alley.

The walk wasn't very far until Jerry came to and tried to kick me.

"Put me down!" He screamed, his feet pummeling my chest as his hands slapped against my back. "Let me go, you freak!"

"Says the kid who knows Elfish," I snarled under my breath, trying to put him down gently. He swung around as I placed him on the ground, his fist hitting me in the jaw. Jerry howled in pain as he grabbed his wrist.

I rolled my eyes as he kissed his knuckles.

Jerry stepped away from me. "You're some kind of freak!" He snapped, glaring at me.

I laughed airily. "Really? Because if that _freak _hadn't been in that alley, you'd be getting your ass kicked right about now."

Jerry seemed to consider what I had said as he rubbed his knuckles before letting his arm fall to his side. "You're right," Jerry said. "I'm sorry for calling you a freak."

I shrugged. "I've heard it plenty of times." _Yeah, I have, because Jerry said the word 'freak' like five times until it was drilled into my skull._

Jerry stared at my fists. "Can you do that fire thing again?"

I willed my fist to burst into flame.

Jerry stared at my hand in wonderment, his glasses reflecting the flames as they licked past my fingers, curling up into smoke.

"That's so cool," Jerry whispered. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I was kidding you. The flames don't hurt at all."

Jerry held out a tentative hand, as if to touch my flames. I furrowed my brow, closing my hand in a fist and cutting of the fires' oxygen. "Whatare you trying to do? Burn yourself?" I asked, letting my arm fall to my side.

Jerry shrugged, straightening his glasses again. "You're from my school, aren't you?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I've seen you get crammed into lockers. I thought that only happened in movies."

He wrinkled his nose before sighing. "Well, thanks, anyways."

I shrugged, smirking. "All in a day's work."

Jerry stared at me. "I-I gotta go," He stuttered, turning on his heel and taking off in the other direction.

My eyes widened. "Jerry!" I shouted after him but he was gone.

I felt a vibrate in my jean pocket. I fumbled until I had my phone in my hands and was staring at the unknown number that was calling.

I answered it.

What? Sue me, I was curious.

"_Andrew_," an even voice mocked, "_Are you okay_?"

My jaw tightened and I remembered something I wish I hadn't.

_I sat on the wax paper of the top of the uncomfortable cushion seat. The room smelt like disinfectant and rubber gloves. The walls were stark white; the tables were navy blue; the door dark mahogany._

_My father—my real father—walked in and gave me a smile but something was wrong. His face was shadowed heavily but I could see concern gleam in his eyes, his mouth twitch._

_He sat down in a plastic chair as he clamped a hand on my knee._

"_Everything's fine, bud," He told me. "The doctors are gonna fix you up."_

"_There's nothing wrong with me, Dad," I told him._

_He gave me an obviously fake smile as the door was thrown open._

_Dad turned to look out the door when his smile faded. He stood immediately, glaring into the shadow of the hallway. "What are you doing here?" He growled._

_I sat up a little straighter to try to peek over his head._

_There was a chuckle. "You honestly thought we wouldn't find you, James?"_

_Dad flinched. "I quit."_

"_You can't get rid of us that easily," The voice said._

_The owner of the voice stepped forward. I couldn't make out any details except for the blue lights pulsing from the man's blaster._

_Dad edged away, keeping himself in front of me. I knew what he was doing. There was a gun in the drawer, in the wall compartment, in the top cabinet. If he could grab one …_

"_Aw, is this your son?"_

_Dad stiffened._

"_He looks just like you, James," The voice said. "Except for the eyes."_

_I glanced quizzically at my father. We had the same eyes. What was this guy talking about?_

_I watched Dad's eyes glint in the shadows. They weren't blue, anymore. They were a vibrant neon orange, streaked with red and yellow and gold._

_Dad looked at me. "Andrew," He said. "Close your eyes."_

_I did. There was a flash of fireworks behind my eyelids._

_There was some screaming, the scent of smoke and burnt flesh and a puff of air._

_Dad shook me. "Andrew," He started, "Are you okay?"_

I almost threw the phone into the concrete.

"I wouldn't if I were you," The voice on the phone chided.

I fumed, erupting into flames in the dark street. "What the _hell _do you want?" I snarled into the phone.

"For you to _cool down_," The voice said and that was what happened.

I froze. The flames still licked up my body but I couldn't move.

"Good. _Good,_" The voice said. "Now, Andrew, are you looking for trouble?"

"No," I murmured, finding it hard to move my lips.

"Really? Because it seems like you are," The voice continued. "You've been acting very _heroic _lately. Honestly, you can't pull off heroism. I'd stop if I were you. Wouldn't want someone to get hurt, now would we?"

"Listen to me, you—" I started, my words slurring together.

"Sorry, Andrew, can't. I gotta fly," The voice said, "but, when the freeze thaws, how about you hang up your Superman costume? I don't think it's going to last very long."

With that, the call was over and so was my invisible superhero career.

**Woo!**

**Pretty intense, eh?**

**I normally have a lot of stuff to tell you guys right after I post the chapters, so I'm going to try to remember what's been happening in my life.**

**Well, I took the practice writing NESA. The prompt was unbelievably stupid but I think I did rather well.**

**I can already tell this year is going to be a very emotional one because I've been fangirling since Day 1.**

**I've realized I hate everyone in my school except for about ten people.**

**I have this awesome leather journal that I've basically refused to write in because it's too perfect to ruin with little screw-ups.**

**I finally found a crew of people in my school I actually like.**

**I've had gym for like two weeks and I already hate it because I'm uncoordinated. This kid I know was all like "Oh I see why you don't play any sports" and I was like, "Dude I will kill you in a story shut your face"**

**We're not doing Greek Mythology this year in school and are switching it with descriptive writing. I honestly don't know what I should feel about that.**

**I wish all of the fandoms I'm a part of just decided "Hey let's make a school for fangirling" and put us all into class by what we fangirl for so I would meet people I can actually stand.**

**Yeah, that's my life in a nutshell.**

**Leave a review!**


	27. Welcome Home

I stared into the kitchen from the back porch.

Nick had locked himself into his office and refused to come out. I doubted he even noticed the fact that I'd been gone for three-fourths of the day and that I'd almost gotten kidnapped or that I'd saved about two people.

I opened the sliding glass door, entering the dining room and walking into the kitchen.

"Hello, Andrew. Where have you been?" Computer asked.

I cringed slightly. "I've been … out."

"Out where?"

I sighed. "Do I really have to tell you everything?"

"Yes," Computer answered, her tone stern.

My shoulders slumped. "Fine. You caught me. I was out smoking pot with a bunch of those delinquents from school and was running around, vandalizing property and such…"

Computer let out a computerized sigh. "Samuel called earlier. He's at Peter's house."

I nodded, turning back around. "I'll go over to Parker's, then."

…

I knocked my fist against Peter's front door.

Peter's aunt, Mae, opened the door with the usual, "Wow! Look how much you've grown, Andrew!" and beckoned me inside.

I gave Mae a side-hug and followed her into the conjoined kitchen/dining area.

The team sat around the wooden island, piling slices of turkey on pools of cranberry sauce and dumping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes onto their plates.

Sam looked up and grinned. "Andy, grab a plate!"

There was strange glint in his brown eyes, a falseness in his smile that made me grow suspicious.

I raised an eyebrow but grabbed a plate and piled it high slices of turkey drowning in thick gravy. I grabbed a can of Pepsi and Ava led the way to the living area.

I took a seat on the couch, placing my plate on the glass coffee table. I popped the top of the Pepsi, listened to it fizz satisfyingly and took a sip.

I raised an eyebrow, noticing how they didn't try to take a seat. "Wow, guys, don't crowd me," I said, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't help.

I placed the can down and spread me hands. They flinched. I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

Sam took a shallow breath. "While you were gone, we ran into Spidey's old buddy, Electro."

I raised an eyebrow. "Star-face?"

They nodded. "Except he … got a change in scenery."

I sat forward, cupping my chin with one hand and holding my kneecap with the other. My knee began to bounce uneasily. "A change of scenery…?"

"Yeah," Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "He kinda … took control of the Big Apple. He almost took control of the _whole_ apple, actually…"

I met his gaze as he said, "It would've been great if you would've been there to help."

I sighed. "I wish I could've … I was busy."

Ava's eyes flashed. "Busy? What is more important than protecting the civilians?"

My shoulders slumped. "Nothing. I'm sorry."

"No," Ava pressed. "Tell us what was more important, Andy."

I was about to snap at her, but I suddenly remembered the day's events—saving a child's life, getting acquainted with Taskmaster, almost getting taken to an unknown laboratory, breaking up a bank robbery and a possible alley fight. Oh, and that phone call.

I must've been lost in thought because Luke had to nudge me, but he seemed like he was frightened to even take a step closer to me.

"Well, I was trying to figure out my place," I replied. "Oh, yeah, and this." I flicked my thumb against my middle finger, igniting my pointer finger like a cheap gas station lighter.

Luke jumped away from me.

"What is your guys' problem?" I asked them. "You're all jumpy."

"Yeah, well, _sorry _that we're temporarily scarred from our encounter with Shock-Socket," Luke snapped. "Oh, yeah, and the fact that you and him both control energy practically the same way!"

My thumb lighter sputtered and flickered out. I stared at my Pepsi can, watching the condensation droplets roll down and collect on the glass in a ring of water.

I stood up. "I gotta go."

Ava glared at me. "You always do this."

I sighed, wanting to say more, but I just turned on my heel and walked toward the door. Mae gave me a hug and walked me out.

"Do you want a ride, sweetie?" She asked me as she dug her keys out of her purse.

I shook my head. "I can walk."

…

I was going home, just not to Nick's.

I ran to my old childhood home … or, at least, the remains of it.

The outside walls are scorched and half the roof has caved in on itself. The stoop is charred with soot. The windows are blown out. The door is missing.

I walked up to the missing door and stepped through the doorway. My shoes padded over the burnt wood flooring. I glanced at the living room and immediately regretted it.

Claws marks tore the sofa to shreds. Ash clang to every surface it could latch onto. Pictures were nothing but bunks of coal. The television screen is smashed.

The truth hit me like a punch to the gut.

My childhood home is gone.

I sighed, ripping a charred tuff of the sofa and crushed it in my fist, letting the ash flit down to the floor.

I bit my lip, bringing my fist back. I swung it, smashing it through the ashy couch. I punched the wall next and then, the already shattered TV.

Blood glistened over my knuckles, but I didn't care. I punched an armchair. I brought my fist back and expected my fist to break through the plaster of the wall I was now facing when I let my fist fly.

That didn't happen exactly.

I winced, pulling my fist to my chest and holding it protectively. I furrowed my brow, staring at the unbroken wall. Beads of blood rolled over the paint, forming an image, one I'd seen multiple times.

A Captain America shield.

I heard a flush of air and the plaster began to crumble, revealing a metal door.

Two blood-red scythes glistened behind the shield. A carefree-recorded male voice echoed, "Welcome, Andrew. Welcome home."

I froze.

What did that voice just say?

How the literal—

The door slid open. My eyes widened as I took a step forward, my shoe connecting with tile. The room smelt of childhood memories—not the disinfectant that stung your nose. No, it smelt like warm laundry, maple syrup, mixed berry shampoo.

I surveyed the room. Bottles of fiery orange liquid and bubbly unnaturally neon blue liquid glowed like nightlights in glass cabinets. Sketchbooks and thick academic books towered in uneven stacks. Vials of slick black oil hummed unpleasantly. Electricity zigzagged in plasma balls. Dirt clods shifted in animal terrariums.

My eyes widened as I stared at the center wall. There were at least three glass human-sized tubes holding hovering costumes—two were empty and one had a sleek black suit with the orange letters PM in the center of the chest. The letters seemed to glow, as if it were infused with lava.

I walked forward, pressing my hand against the slightly warm glass.

A blue holographic pad hovered over the glass. It was like a finger pad from a sci-fi movie. I pressed my thumb against the pad and heard another flush of air, as the tube slid open to reveal the costume.

I plucked the costume out to examine it. The fabric was almost like latex, except it had more of a wooly quality. I stretched the material of the forearm and examined the individual stitching.

Someone cleared his or her throat behind me.

Fire exploded across my palm as I whirled around, gripping the costume in my free fist.

I don't know what I was expecting—just not what I saw.

It was James Jameson, my father, but not in the flesh. He was a blue holographic figure standing over a huge metal half-cylinder. Buttons blinked and whirred on the dashboard of the half-cylinder and his blue shoe tapped the metal surface he stood on impatiently.

"Dad?" My voice was strangled, like I was about to cry.

He gave me a weary smile. "Hello, son."

**OH YEAAAAH. **

**So, what's happened this week?**

**Well, I went to a formal winter dance or whatever you want to call it. It was fun, I guess. I'm not going to bore you all with the details.**

**My grandparents got a new puppy! He's three-weeks old. He's a blondish-reddish chow-chow. He's the cutest puppy ever, I'm not even kidding and his name is Parker! (aha like Peter Parker)**

**I watched Pitch Perfect yesterday with my mom and it was the best movie ever. I love Fat Amy!**

**I think those stupid people at that stupid dance got me sick.**

**I'm currently reading Raven's Gate by Anthony Horowitz. It's really good in a creepy sorta way! I have three more chapters left!**

**I went to book club for the first time … It was so funny. We got off-topic and started talking about dreams and movies. I made a lot of fangirl friends this year so I'm in like, seventh heaven.**

**I'm obsessed with The Fray Radio on Pandora. It gives me inspiration to write stuff aha, like seriously, I could write so many stories from the songs on there.**

**Yeah, so review and have an awesome week, guys!**


	28. Costume Clad

I stared at my father, my mouth agape.

He gave me a soft smile, glancing at the costume clasped in my fist. "Ah, you've found that old thing," He chuckled lightly.

I rubbed the material between my fingers and stared at him.

He looked different from the pictures I'd seen. He had bags under his blue eyes and his face was furry with stubble, as if he hadn't had the time or the care to shave it. His cheeks were hollowed out with shadows and he took an airy breath before letting out a strangled cough into the crook of his elbow. He mustered up a faint smile and said, "You've gotten a lot taller since—"

"—Six years ago?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tilted his head to the side, meeting my gaze. "Has it been that long?" He asked. His voice was deep and jagged, as if he were suffering from a pretty severe cold.

"Yeah. It has," I replied, turning around in a circle to look at the cabinets full of weird bottles or vials. "So, what's all that stuff?" I asked, gesturing to the cabinets.

"Experiments," He told me. "The blue is for hydrokinesis. The dirt is a type of geokinesis that is still in progress. The vials are full of living shadows causing erebokinesis and the plasma balls are for electrokinesis. The orange bottles are for pyroism, which is a completely different thing next to pyrokinesis."

I stared at him blankly. "Okay, that pretty much made no sense."

He sighed heavily before going into a coughing fit. "It's not _supposed _to make sense," He mumbled under his breath. "You don't get it. Nobody does."

I watched him carefully. "Maybe it makes some sense," I inquired. "I mean, _I _have pyroism. I've been through its effects. You're making people have powers, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"But, it backfired. You got infected. I got infected. People who didn't have the good enough conscience were made worse. Good people at heart were made better. Sorta like the serum Captain America took," I explained, furrowing my eyebrows slightly.

A smile crept onto his lips. "Exactly."

I paused, a thought nagging at my mind. "Why did you leave? Where were you when I needed you?" I asked quietly.

My father pursed his lips together. "I didn't leave voluntarily. I had to get you away from harm; away from me."

I let that sink in. "What's so bad about you?"

"The fact that I have as many enemies as allies. The fact that everyone wanted to know of my experiments and how they were progressing. They never once suspected that my own son was my greatest invention and my drive to succeed," He said, pride shimmering in his eyes.

It sounded incredibly cliché but I had a feeling he was telling the truth.

"So, um, _Dad,_" The word sounded weird on my tongue. "I was wondering … I could really use an alter-ego and a costume …"

His eyes brightened and he gave me a gigantic grin.

…

I grabbed a few old electronic scraps, connecting wires and melting copper and silver fixings. I created two metal forearm braces, with buttons that, when pressed, turned into a black circular shield and shot multiple gas bombs.

I grinned, stepping back from the forearm braces on the inventing table in the corner of the room. My father had given me little tips on what to do and how to make the braces more effective. I pulled a pair of reflective goggles from over my eyes and slid them up, resting them on my forehead, flaring my hair back.

I picked up the right arm brace and strapped it on, stretching my fingers and turning my wrist. The brace clicked and buckled and I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. My left pointer finger burst into flame and I held it over the brace, melting a few of the buckles and wires down. I stretched my hand again and smirked when it didn't buckle like last time.

I did the same to the left brace after I'd strapped it on over my forearm. I flexed my arms and clicked the button for the shield.

I braced my right arm to my chest as I whirled around, hearing a _thwip _as the shield leapt from the brace. A transparent lightweight black shield grew in size in a matter of seconds, as I crouched down and held it in front of me as if the room were erupting into flame and destruction.

I opened an eye and looked through the shield to my father atop the half-cylinder. He smiled and clapped his hands together.

…

I walked out of my old home, the costume and braces in my arms as I stepped onto the stoop.

I inspected the bushes down the street and found my jetpack, slightly barbequed. I opened the secret compartment to find the papers I'd thrown in there. They were slightly browned but they were still solid.

I slid the costume into the compartment, locking it. I fastened the braces on underneath my jacket. I slid the jetpack over my arms and thought for a second.

Where was the team? Why hadn't I received a call when I've been missing from action for an entire day?

I clicked the video communicator on my right brace.

My eyebrows furrowed as the screen showed the entire team, from someone's watch, running around the room in a form of training combat.

I could hear someone shout, "Okay! Break time!"

Peter ripped his mask away from his face, running his hand over his face. Ava pulled her mask up and caught the water bottle Danny threw at her. Sam hovered over and landed, grinning widely as he said, "I kicked all of your asses."

Luke—who I'd called—laughed. "_Bull _crap, Sam."

Sam grinned cheekily as Ava walked over with Peter and Danny.

"Where's Andy?" Peter asked.

Everyone shrugged.

Ava sighed. "He never shows up anymore. Why would he now?"

Peter glanced her way. "Cut him some slack, Ava. We don't know what he's going through."

"Yeah, we don't. Because he never tells any of us," Ava replied, looking everyone in the team in the eye. "Has he told _any _of you how he's coping with being a target?"

"No," Sam muttered, "but you can tell it's bothering him. He's been pretty irritable lately…"

Me? Irritable? Never.

"And overly dramatic," Ava added with an eye roll.

I _am _not overly dramatic.

"Maybe we should stop this. It's not wise to talk behind his back when he's our friend and part of our team," Danny advised.

"He's _barely _a part of our team," Ava snapped at him. "He hasn't shown up for practices, for fights, for life-or-death situations when we needed him!"

I felt my teeth grind together. Fine. They wanted me to show up?

I'll gladly come.

…

The Helicarrier was currently under the ocean, so the new training area was basically the rooftops of New York.

Up in the air, I could already see them in their bright costumes.

I landed a few roofs away so that I could put my new costume on. I wadded up my regular clothes and placed them in the tiny compartment.

I checked out my butt in the tight costume. _That _would take some getting used to considering how there was barely any air back there.

I let out an airy sigh and pulled my goggles down over my eyes.

It was go-time.

…

I hid behind a pipe of the water tower atop the building they fought on before I darted out. It was dark but the goggles I wore had night vision (which is freaking awesome, by the way).

I ran into Danny first. He was taken by surprise and didn't have the time to boot up his fist before I sent a flurry of punches to his gut and threw my leg out to trip him. He groaned in pain and that was when the rest of the team realized what had happened.

"What...?" Luke started, turning around.

I grinned as I took off running at him and hit him square in the chest with my head. He let out a strangled bit of breath before I slammed his head into the water tower.

I heard quick footsteps behind me and whirled around, grabbing Ava's foot in my fist before it could take purchase on my face. I twisted my wrist, sending her into a spinning vortex.

My back felt slightly warm as I turned my attention to Sam, who was shooting a white-hot beam of heat at me. I smirked, clicking my shield on and throwing it in front of me, sending the beam of heat right back at him.

_No hard feelings, man, _I thought.

A torrent of webs hit me in face and I groaned internally. _How could I forget Web-Head?_

I ripped the webs away, but not quick enough. Peter planted his feet square into my chest, pushing me back. He kicked, backflipping away from me as I flailed backward. As Peter landed, I threw a few drops of liquid fire at the tar of the building, leaving his feet glued to the roof.

I lifted myself off the ground, ignoring the friction burns that most likely painted my back a dark red, and looked over my groaning team. I slid my goggles up my forehead, letting it flare my hair back. I smiled as they all looked up at me in shock as I said, "I think I just kicked _all_ of your asses, hands down."

**I drew a picture of Andy in his costume and HE LOOKS AMAZING OKAY I'M BEYOND PROUD OF IT**

**I DON'T REALLY HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY**

**READ From A Witch's Perspective OKAY DO IT NOW ONE OF MY AMAZING FRIENDS ON FF IS WRITING IT (the wonderful NoNameX) SO GO OUT THERE AND DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR LIFE AND READ IT YES PLEASE YOU'RE ALL AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU**

**So, tell me how you liked the chapter in a review and have a fantastic day, guys!**


	29. Pyromaniac

To say the team was shocked would be the understatement of the year.

I walked over to Peter, helping him up and laughing, saying, "No hard feelings, Parker."

Peter watched me warily. "Who…?"

I pointed to my chest, saying, "Andy," like he was a five year-old. I grinned cheekily when the rest of the team gaped at me in shock.

Luke stood up, barely phased by getting his head slammed into a water tower. "What's up with your getup?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

I laughed heartily. "You're just jealous that you can't work it!" I replied smugly, strutting forward like a runway model.

Sam flew over, jabbing a finger at my forearm braces. "How did you make that shield pop out?"

I pressed the button and the shield flew from the brace.

Sam let out an embarrassing squeal. "Oh my god, do you think Nick will get me one of these?"

I shrugged. "He doesn't know I have it. I made it myself."

"Whoa, whoa—you _made _something and didn't end up destroying everything near it?" Ava asked skeptically.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "I don't destroy everything I touch, Ava. Now, who wants to see me burn down a building or something?"

Peter threw his arm out to grip my forearm. "What do you mean?"

I grinned, shrugging. "I don't know. Just thought I'd test out these babies." My hands bubbled into magma, sizzling against the air.

Peter ripped his hand away from me, his eyes narrowed. "Andy, do you really think that's—"

"—The most genius idea in the world?" I smirked. "Yeah."

"Dude, you're crazy," Luke said, watching me intently, his shades reflecting the criss-crossing orange lines over my hands.

I nodded, smiling, and glanced around the roof.

"How did you even make those?" Ava asked. "I mean, with the Helicarrier out of order … You wouldn't of had your lab…"

I placed my hand under my chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"Andy," Ava said, her eyes widening, "Where the hell did you make those?"

I focused on something underneath the building we stood on. I furrowed my eyebrows, hearing something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"You should _cool down_."

My eyes flashed. My fists clenched.

"Andy?" Sam's voice began. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," I snarled and with that, I jumped off the roof.

…

Honestly, jumping off roofs should be qualified as a hobby, because I seem to do it often enough.

And, when I jump off roofs, I usually either fall on top of somebody or fall into traffic.

I wish I could've fell into traffic.

I fell several stories and slammed into a person. Hitting cement would've been softer than the landing I'd just displayed, as every muscle in my body was throbbing and the wind was blasted from my lungs.

Whatever I had fallen on was extremely hard and ice cold, which didn't make my situation any better, as the cold was just cold enough to burn and I couldn't muster up the strength to push away from whatever it was.

I slowly opened my eyes and peered into the frozen face of my childhood best friend, Keith. His face was light blue, his lips turquoise and his green eyes widened in horror. I furrowed my brow, noticing that his fire-red hair was stiff, like frozen flames standing on end.

It would've been funny if I hadn't just fell on top of him, or if he hadn't been frozen or if my skin wasn't positively burning as if I were lit aflame, but instead of heat, I was suffocated by cold.

It also would've been funny if I didn't have about five blasters pointed at my head.

I recognized the men holding the blasters. They were the gunmen from the Citi Bank. Tattoos snaked over their bulging muscles, the veins in their necks popped and they honestly looked like they could've become cannibals right then and there and eaten me without any regret at all.

I glanced through their angry faces, watching veins throb in foreheads and their jaws clench and unclench in order to control their anger. I slowly began to sit up, holding my hands up in an order of surrender.

They must not have taken it that way.

Their eyes widened and one of them slammed down the trigger on their blaster. I shrieked as blue acid stabbed into my shoulder, cutting into the skin as if I were a steak and potato platter.

I bit back loads of curses, tearing my lip as I dug my teeth into the skin. Searing pain spread from the spot on my shoulder throughout my body.

"What the hell, Darren?" One of the men snapped.

The guy that shot me shrugged. "Self-defence, man."

"We weren't supposed to injure him, dipshit," Another guy snapped.

"He could've killed me," Darren argued.

I rolled my eyes. This was getting ridiculous.

I glanced down at Keith, who was still frozen. "Um, is he gonna be okay?" I asked, watching him for any sign of breathing.

"Yeah. He just got in the way."

I whipped my head around to stare at the man who had just walked forward. He was wearing black hiking boots, camouflage cargo shorts and a thick, black jacket. He had a blaster in his large hands. His skin was dark cocoa brown, matching his malicious eyes. A smirk slid on his face and he said, "Hey, nephew."

I stared at him. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Nope. I'm dead serious," He said, taking a step forward and surveying my current state. "Oh, and about that kid," He mused, nodding at Keith, "He'll be fine."

"I feel like there's gonna be a but factor," I muttered.

"But," He began.

"There it is," I mumbled.

"There's a catch. You have to do everything we say. Understood?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I said, standing up. "Could I get some disinfectant for this acid burn? It hurts like hell."

"Disinfectant is just gonna make it worse," One of the men mumbled, looking away and hefting his blaster over his shoulder.

I began to follow the men, who wend their way through alleys parking lots. I aimlessly walked behind, the pain in my shoulder throbbing continuously. I glanced forward and stopped dead in my tracks. "Is that…?"

"Yeah," My uncle breathed. "Amazing, isn't it? Took me years to perfect it. Looks just like my brother's, eh? That's just the outside. The inside, now that's the best part."

I was staring at a replica of The Helicarrier, hovering feet from the ground. The rest of the gunmen grabbed onto a ladder and were lifted upward. Max nudged me forward and I began to walk, awestruck.

I couldn't take it all in—the place was amazing. It seemed like a villain's version of Comic-Con. They all had their costumes on, huddled in crews. I recognized a few of the bigger names—Red Skull, Dr. Doom, Goblin and surprisingly Loki, who I'd been told was being held in an Asgardian prison.

They all turned and stared at me. They didn't seem sure on how to react. A few villains I'd fought in the past few years looked absolutely livid. I recognized Taskmaster, who was supporting acid burns and two black eyes along with a permanent scowl.

"Welcome our newest edition," Max's voice boomed. "Pyromaniac."

The applause stabbed into my eardrums. It was coming from all sides. One outraged villain shrieked, "He doesn't even go here!" Said villain was suddenly overwhelmed by a group of men with blasters. When they separated, the villain was a pool of purple ooze and the lingering smell of burnt flesh.

"Does anyone else have any objections?" Max snarled, causing the crowd to burst into whoops and catcalls and thunderous applause.

**I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG I MISSED YOU ALL**

**YAY PYROMANIAC HIS NAME REVEALATION WASN'T AS DRAMATIC AS I WOULD'VE LIKED BUT [bill nye voice] NOW YOU KNOW**

**I JUST HAD NESA TESTING AND I HATED IT BUT I THINK I DID OKAY I BET THAT'S WHAT THE O.W.L'S ARE LIKE EXCEPT A MILLION TIMES WORSE AND YEAH I'M NOW OBSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER AND I'M ON THE FIFTH BOOK **

**REVIEW BC I LOVE YOU **

**HAPPY BELATED EASTER I GOT RISE OF THE GUARDIANS I LOVE LIFE**


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